Secondary Infection The Wayne Fic
by Liz17
Summary: This story explains how Matrix cured Daemon's infection, and fleshes out Dr. Wayne MacHewlett, the doctor who tried to save Bob from the carbonite in S4. The infection was only the first part of the plan...
1. Default Chapter

The alarm went off, and the voice of a news reader boomed to life. "…traffic on the Cross-Node interchange is backed up, authorities estimate it'll take at least a microsecond to clean up." 

Wayne MacHewlett, M.D., jerked awake with a gasp all out of proportion to the traffic report. His dog, curled in a snug ball at the foot of the bed, lifted his head and wagged his tail lazily. Wayne blinked, then shook his head and reached toward the nightstand. "Sorry about that, Roscoe," he told the dog as he shut off the radio. The sprite swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He stared off into space for a moment, absently running one hand from the back of his neck up over his bare scalp. 

Roscoe, an animal of indeterminate breed but blessed with uncommon good sense, poked his nose under his master's arm and whined softly.

Wayne snapped back to attention and rubbed the dog's ears. "Yes, breakfast. Come on." He rose, and took the three strides necessary to carry him into his kitchen. The apartment had been described as "cozy" by the landlord, and "cramped" by everyone else who'd visited it, which wasn't many people, really. Wayne poured some dog kibble into a bowl for Roscoe and some cereal into a bowl for himself, and sat down to eat by the one distinguishing feature of his apartment—the picture window. The window looked out across several sectors of the bustling Supercomputer; there was always something for a tired sprite to lose himself in watching. 

That same window had looked out on Daemon's arrival. Her reflection had glided across the glass just like the traffic did now…

Wayne jerked his attention away from the scene outside and focused on his cereal. He left the dishes in the sink and took Roscoe for his morning jog. If the dog noticed that the pace Wayne set was a bit quicker than usual, he didn't complain.

"Dr. MacHewlett?" The intern's voice was respectfully inquiring, not the least bit threatening, but Wayne started anyway. 

The intern, who could have passed for someone's kid sister visiting the Academy, blushed. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Doctor, but—"

"It's time for my rounds," Wayne finished. He glanced at the clock. "Almost twenty nanos past time, actually." He smiled at the intern in the doorway. "Thanks for the reminder, Katie." He closed the file he'd been scanning and rose. The intern, turning to go, didn't see the worried expression that flitted across the doctor's face.

The patients in the Ward kept Wayne occupied for the rest of the morning. He'd earned his position and his reputation. He kept a close, professional eye on the sprites under his care, and interns flourished under his tutelage. No matter how outrageous the injury or how severe the infection, everyone at the Guardian Complex trusted that Wayne had either seen something like it before, or would come up with something that would somehow beat all the odds and save the patient. There was at least one perennial rumor among the cadets that "Doc Wayne" had learned his skills from an ex-Codemaster who'd since disappeared. It was a fine story to tell in the bunkrooms during break time, but it had only the faintest aroma of truth to it. Dr. Wayne MacHewlett drew most of his diagnoses from fifteen minutes of experience dealing with Guardians. The others were the result of dogged perseverance mixed with a little luck. He enjoyed his job, most of the time. He had never married, and the reason for that, according to most of his former girlfriends, was that he was already married to his work. 

The afternoon had given way to evening when Turbo came to the lab. The Prime Guardian leaned on the doorjamb for a nano or two, watching the lone occupant of the lab scan a binary file that appeared to be mostly gibberish. Turbo lifted an eyebrow and grinned, then reached out and tapped on the open door. "What's up, Doc?"

Wayne turned in his chair, and blinked when he saw his friend and boss standing in the doorway. He matched Turbo's grin, and gestured him to a seat. "Only you would bring up that ancient line."

"Don't make me feel any older than I am," Turbo answered as he repositioned the chair. 

Wayne noted the move, and observed, "Still watching doors?"

"And windows, and every com port in the system. It's my job." Turbo straddled the seat of the chair and folded his arms across the back. 

"Seen anything interesting lately?" Wayne asked.

"I see lots of interesting things, old friend. I hear even more. It's what I've heard that worries me."

Wayne lifted an inquiring yellow eyebrow.

Turbo explained. "There've been some strange reports from all over the Net lately. Weird stuff. Take a look." Turbo flipped an organizer pad out of his belt and into the air.

Wayne caught the pad with a gesture that belied his gentle physician's manner, and skimmed the first few files. "These are criminal reports, accidents," he said, puzzled. "Why are you bringing this to me?"

"Because I've got a hunch that you'll figure out what the connection is," Turbo answered. 

Wayne looked at the files again. "This isn't my protocol, Turbo. I'm a doctor, not a detective."

"Exactly," Turbo said. He sighed. "Look, I know you've already got enough to do, with the new cadet class coming in. Just look at it for me, will you? Maybe you'll see something I've missed."

Wayne sighed, and put the pad beside the samples on the work table. "You don't miss things, Turbo, but I'll look."

"Thanks." The Prime Guardian changed the subject. "So, what are you doing? That doesn't look like light reading." He gestured at the binary readout.

Wayne turned back to look at the procession of numbers. "That's what's left of Daemon."

Turbo stiffened. "You're working with viral material? In the _open_ lab?"

"It's not viral," Wayne answered clinically. "These are code samples from the interns."

Turbo sighed. "OK, Wayne, what're you doing?"

"I'm trying to figure out how we beat Daemon, so I can create a vaccine. That's _my_ job," Wayne turned back to the screen.

"We've got the cure already, Wayne. We don't need a vaccine."

"We don't know where that cure came from," Wayne answered. 

"It came from Enzo Matrix, over in Mainframe. Bob's cadet."

Wayne turned back to Turbo. "Right. A cadet. He had a field-copy version of a standard Guardian protocol. Daemon infected him just like she infected everyone else. Somehow this one cadet managed to fight off an infection that even the Prime Guardian couldn't hold out against." He shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Most of the time, _nothing _that comes out of Mainframe makes sense," Turbo said dryly. "That's one strange little system."

Wayne lifted both eyebrows and cocked his head. "It certainly is. It's so strange it saved our lives. I want to know how that happened." He turned back to his screen, brows furrowed.

Turbo sighed, and dropped his head for a moment. "All right, Wayne. I won't argue with your medical judgement." He brought his head back up again. "You still having nightmares?" he asked suddenly.

Wayne's eyes slid toward Turbo's face, but jerked back to the readouts before meeting the Prime Guardian's gaze. "It's a common aftereffect of major trauma," he answered.

"Huh," Turbo said. "Me, too." He rose in one smooth movement. "Keep me posted."

"Always," Wayne answered.

The next cycle had already begun by the time Wayne got back to his apartment. There were several messages waiting for him—all routine. The neighbor kids had taken Roscoe out for a long afternoon romp. The rent was due in three more cycles. He'd been invited to another conference. Wayne deleted the first two messages and saved the third for later. Preoccupied with the binary code still glowing in his brain, he carried the dishes into the shower with him, and stood holding a plate in one hand while soap ran down his face into his eyes. He left the plate precariously balanced on the edge of the sink, and went to bed, more out of habit than anything else. He was asleep before Roscoe had finished his customary pre-sleep circling.

Wayne started his rounds on time the following morning. He was demonstrating radical magnet therapy to an awed group of interns when a breathless cadet skidded to a stop in the hall, then tumbled into the room, windmilling his arms and knocking Katie into the delicate magnet unit.

There were several gasps and a scream as the magnet swung. Katie curled into a tight ball in the corner, clutching her face. The cadet hit the floor and scrambled under the patient's bed. The interns huddled toward the door. The patient, out cold, was the only one in the room who was unruffled.

Wayne reached, and caught the swinging magnet by its business end. There was a brief angry buzzing from the machine, then a sigh of powerdown. Wayne let go and flipped a few switches on the machine, cutting all power to it. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you should never touch anything but the control surface of a medical magnet unit," he said, shaking his fingers. "The shielding will prevent accidental erasure, but it will give you a nasty shock, and the emergency protocols will shut the unit down." 

He crouched and looked under the bed. "You have some explaining to do, Cadet. And an apology to make."

"I'm sorry, Doctor," the cadet said, sliding out from under the bed. His blush had turned gold skin to copper, which clashed violently with his blue hair.

"I'm not the one who's going to be sore for a decacycle," Wayne said mildly. He helped Katie to her feet. Her skin was rapidly going from its usual light lavender to a bruised purple.

"Sorry," the cadet said quickly to the intern as he rose. He turned to Wayne. "I'm really sorry to interrupt, Doctor Wayne, but there's been an accident and the people downstairs said to come and get you as fast as I could."

"All right, I'm coming," Wayne answered. He turned to the interns. "Cody, you and Ana take Katie to the break room and get her some cold packs. Selene, Rudyard, you're with me. Cass, you stay here and keep Argus stable. You," the pointed at the cadet, "go to the nurses' desk and have them page Dr. Frances. Try not to run anyone else down." He spun on his heel and was out the door with his chosen interns hard on his heels.

Wayne forgave the cadet a little when he arrived in the emergency room. There were nearly two dozen victims, all partially scrambled from a cadet training error . The disfigurements were stomach-turning to look at--Rudyard hurriedly excused himself to the washroom—and potentially life-threatening if not handled properly, but with treatment the entire group would soon be back to normal.

Turbo came by as the pandemonium settled down to the ordinary bustle of a major hospital. The Prime Guardian went from bed to bed, checking on everyone and leaving a trail of reassured cadets. He found Wayne in the second-floor break room, again surrounded by interns. Turbo caught Wayne's eye and jerked his head toward the hall. Wayne nodded shortly, and rose. 

Turbo waited until Wayne had closed the break room door behind him, then said, "Busy cycle." He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms.

"Most cycles are busy around here," Wayne answered. "You usually are, too."

"What do you know about what happened to those kids?"

"You mean the cadets? They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Something went wrong in a simulation."

"That's not the half of it," Turbo said abruptly. "Those are first-level cadets."

"What?" Wayne's brow furrowed. "What were they doing in third-level sims, then?"

"No one seems to know," Turbo growled. "I talked to every one of them who could talk back, and none of them has any idea how they ended up in that room, who hacked into the simulator controls, or how they managed to beat the sim without so much as an energy shield."

"Shock does that," Wayne replied. "They'll remember the details more clearly in a few cycles, when their code's sorted out again. Maybe it was someone's idea of a prank."

Turbo shook his head. "Have you looked at that file I gave you?"

"I haven't had a free nano since breakfast, Turbo."

"Add this incident to it, then. There've been freak accidents like this happening all over the Net, and I'm beginning to think they're not accidents."

Wayne gave his friend a hard look. "When was the last time you took some time off?"

"Probably around the same time you last confused zero and one. I know how it sounds, Wayne. Just read the file, OK?"

Wayne heaved a deep sigh. "If you keep your cadets out of my emergency room."

Turbo grinned. "You got it. I'll nullify the next batch myself." 

Wayne relaxed enough to smile. "So next you're going to ask me to come up with a cure for nullification?"

_The siren went off, interrupting the tests on the new protocol. He grunted, more annoyed than concerned. Emergency drills kept the interns on their toes, but the wail of the siren really got on one's nerves after a few minutes in the Ward. He locked the lab door and climbed up on a lab stool to disconnect the power to the siren. Ears ringing in the sudden quiet, he climbed down and went back to work._

_Then the pounding started. The door jumped against its hinges, then burst inward._


	2. Secondary Infection Chapter 2

_The siren went off, interrupting the tests on the new protocol. He grunted, more annoyed than concerned. Emergency drills kept the interns on their toes, but the wail of the siren really got on one's nerves after a few minutes in the Ward. He locked the lab door and climbed up on a lab stool to disconnect the power to the siren. Ears ringing in the sudden quiet, he climbed down and went back to work._

_Then the pounding started. The door jumped against its hinges, then burst inward._

He woke with a gasp. Panting, he glanced around, eyes unfocused. He blinked at the walls of his office, decked with commendations and snapshots, arranged neatly on the wall beside his medical certificates. He looked down at his hands, and flexed them, staring at his own fingers as they curled inward to his palms. Finally, he looked at the clock on his desk. It held his attention for nearly three full nanos as it mindlessly counted the passing moments. Wayne shook himself, and got up. He methodically shut down the files he'd been reviewing, and left the office neat as a PIN. He conscientiously locked up before he went home.

He was off-duty but on-call the next cycle. He turned off the alarm and let himself sleep until Roscoe decided he'd waited long enough for breakfast. Roscoe got his usual bowl of kibble. Wayne got out a frying pan and cooked himself an omelette. He sat by his window and dawdled over his omelette until there were only cold scraps left on his plate. Wayne put the plate on the floor for Roscoe to lick, and went into the shower. Half a microsecond later, sprite and dog sallied forth from their apartment building, one of them whistling and the other carrying his plumed tail high in the crisp morning air.

Wayne strolled along the city streets with Roscoe's leash looped over one wrist and his hands in his jacket pockets. The Supercomputer, as always, was full of activity and life. Sprites and binomes hurried back and forth on various errands, and vehicles of every description zigged, zagged, and honked on their way from somewhere to somewhere else. Bicycle couriers dodged from street to sidewalk and back, weaving intricate paths between and around traffic. Wayne stopped on a pedestrian bridge overlooking a construction site, and watched the crew maneuver an enormous framing beam into place. He wandered through one of the city parks, letting Roscoe lead him from tree to bush to lamppost. He bought himself a sticky bun at a cart in the park, then started drifting back toward his apartment, looking in store windows as he went.

Wayne's aesthetic sense was simple. His apartment was decorated in what one of his girlfriends had termed, "Spartan eccentric". He kept Roscoe's leash on the doorknob and his groceries on a bookshelf in the kitchen. Ordinarily, he passed the shops in the art sector with no more than a passing glance, or at most a shake of his head at the things displayed in the windows.

On this particular morning, however, something in one window caught his eye. It was a transparent globe, about half the size of his palm. Streams of color and pinpoints of light swirled and danced within it. Wayne stared at it, his expression intent and entranced.

"You like it?" a voice asked.

"Hm?" Wayne turned and looked at the speaker.

She had laughing green eyes. "I made that piece you're looking at. Do you like it?"

"I…yes." Wayne fumbled with Roscoe's leash. His eyes strayed back to the globe in the window.

"I've got more like that one inside. Want to see?" 

Wayne blinked, and took a deep breath. "Yes, I think I do." He glanced down at the leash in his hand, then to Roscoe, who wagged his tail ever so slightly. "Is it all right if I bring my dog?"

"Bring him in, bring him in. I like dogs. What's your name?" The green eyes settled on his face.

"Wayne." He stopped, then added, "I'm a doctor."

She laughed, as though he had told a marvelously funny joke. "I used to be an accountant!" She laughed some more.

Passersby looked, then gave the two sprites a wide berth.

Wayne took a step back. "An accountant?" He looked her over from head to toe for the first time.

She was dressed in an iridescent ankle-length gown that set off her dark navy skin. Her arms and feet were bare, and ribbons and beads winked in and out of view beneath her black hair. "For ten minutes," she said happily. She put her hand on his arm. "And then about a second ago, I realized that I was _bored_. I wanted to make things. Beautiful things! So I quit my job and reformatted myself as an artist." She pulled gently on Wayne's sleeve. "Come in, let me show you."

Wayne hesitated, then let the accountant-turned-artist lead him into her shop.

The inside of the shop was filled with color reflected from and refracted through dozens of shapes and materials in every direction. Roscoe pressed close to Wayne's leg, his tail still wagging nervously.

The proprietor swept to the window display, plucked the small globe from its stand, and offered it to Wayne with a flourish. "It's powered by motion," she explained. "All of my works are. Watch this." The globe seemed to come alive in her fingers, rolling around in her palm, then dancing between her fingers as though it weighed nothing. The colors within it flashed and brightened as it suddenly lifted into the air, then fell into the former accountant's other hand, where it spun lazily, as though recovering from its leap.

Wayne watched, his eyes bright with interest. The physician in him marveled at the display of dexterity. Something else was entranced by the play of shifting light cast across the artist's face. "How does it work?" he asked.

"It's filled with random photon algorithms," she replied, as the globe ran up her arm to her elbow. "It never looks the same way twice." The globe rolled back down her arm and ended up perched on the tips of her upturned fingers. "Would you like to see some of my other works? I can make any shape you want, or limit the algorithms to any color you like. Maybe even make one for your dog to play with."

Wayne blinked, then shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, I don't think I can afford—

"You never know until you ask," she said mysteriously. The globe sprang off her fingertips and ran down the back of her hand to her wrist, then up over her palm and into the outstretched fingers of her other hand.

Wayne grinned, his purple eyes taking on a hint of the laughter in hers. "All right, how much?"

"For this one?" The artist watched the globe as it skipped around her palm. "I'd say three hundred. Does that sound fair?"

Wayne blinked again. Three hundred units was two seconds' rent. Not that he didn't have any savings…He watched the glittering globe. "Sold."

"Doctor MacHewlett?" The entire nurses' station stopped and turned to look as Wayne approached, Roscoe at his heels. "What are you doing here?" the speaker asked.

"Just picking up some files I forgot to take home last night, Lil." Wayne made as if to pass by, but Lil swept out from behind the counter and put a hand on his chest. She was a sturdy, middle-aged sprite of firm opinions. One of those opinions was that doctors and young children needed regular meals, early bedtimes, and occasional scolding. 

"No you're not. This is supposed to be your time off, Doc. Go home. Take this poor dog of yours for a walk. Call up some pretty sprite and go see a show. Do something that isn't work." Lil peremptorily put her hands on Wayne's shoulders and turned him back toward the stairwell.

"I've already taken Roscoe for a walk," Wayne protested, wriggling out of Lil's grip. "Look at him, he's exhausted."

"Go home and watch Celebrity Jetball, then." Lil put her hands on her hips. "Because you're not going to work yourself to deletion on _my_ shift."

"I'm not going to work myself to deletion," Wayne said in his most reasonable tone. "I'm just going to get a few files Turbo asked me to look at. As a friend."

Lil paused. Turbo was one of the few sprites in the system who could pronounce her seven-syllable filename correctly. He was also the sprite who authorized her paycheck. She watched with disapproval as Wayne unlocked his office. 

Wayne grabbed the file he wanted off of his desk and locked the office behind himself. "Thanks, Lil. See you tomorrow." He blew her a kiss as he left, file folder in hand.

Roscoe snorted.

Wayne spent the afternoon reading Turbo's file and idly rolling the random-light globe back and forth on the table by the picture window. Roscoe passed the time asleep, paddling his feet in the air and squeaking as he chased dream Nulls.

The file was disjointed and cryptic. Wayne had to pause and look up several abbreviations and slang terms from obscure systems. Report after report scrolled across Wayne's vision, and with each new tale, the sprite's brows furrowed lower. Finally, he sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and looked at the glowing screen. "There isn't a connection, Turbo. It's all totally random." His eyes fell on the softly glowing globe. He picked it up and held it in front of his eyes. "Totally random."

_…the door banged open. Wayne jumped, then relaxed, puzzled. "Charlie? Argus? What's going on?"_

The Guardians in the doorway beamed beatifically at him. "We have come to bring you the Word, Wayne," Argus said.


	3. Secondary Infection Chapter 3

The new recruits jogged in a ragged group, making slow laps around the training field in the early morning. Wayne scanned them as they trotted by the front steps of the Ward, then joined the pack. He fell into step beside Turbo, and ran for nearly half the length of the field before remarking, "You worried they'll get lost without you?"

"It's tradition," Turbo replied, puffing a bit. "You read that file yet?"

"Why else would I be out here this early?"

"Did you figure it out?"

"There's nothing to figure out, Turbo. That file is just a collection of unrelated errors." 

"I wish I could believe it was that simple," Turbo said. 

They jogged around the far end of the field, keeping pace with the sleepy-eyed cadets. One cadet instructor swung in beside Wayne and asked, "Hey, Doc, any word on Argus?"

Wayne smiled. "With anyone else, I'd say it'd be at least two decacycles before he's back on his feet. Since it's Argus, I'd say we'll only be able to keep him for another four cycles or so."

The instructor, whose name was Geri, chuckled. "Tell him I miss planting his face on the mat."

"And have _both_ of you cluttering up my Ward next decacycle? Please, Geri, I don't keep that many tranquilizers on hand."

Geri laughed as she picked up the pace to catch up to some of her faltering cadets. She plowed right into the middle of the stumbling group. Moments later, heads came up, and the group started moving a little faster.

"She's good," Wayne noted.

"One of the best," Turbo answered. They rounded the last turn, and headed back toward the Ward. 

"Be seeing you," Wayne said. Without breaking stride, he turned and ran up the steps to the Ward.

Wayne was roughly halfway through his rounds, working his way to his fourth-floor office, when the racket started. Wayne cocked his head and listened to the steady pounding, and shook his head. "Ladies and gentlemen, Argus is awake. If you'd care to come with me..." He led the interns down the hall toward the noise. Two shift nurses joined them as they passed the nurses' station.

Argus was jumping on his bed. Or rather, bouncing on it one-legged. The rangy Guardian bounced on his left foot, somehow keeping his weight from landing on his right leg, which was bandaged from toes to knee. The thumping sound came from the bedstead, which slammed against the wall with every bounce. Argus had a small towel wrapped around each hand. He threw his right fist at the wall, and followed up with a left that shook flecks of paint down onto the pillow. Next came a barrage of quick jabs, all striking the same spot and causing more paint to crack.

Wayne waited until Argus broke off, then said, "I think you beat it, Argus."

Argus glanced at him, and stopped bouncing. He unwrapped the towels, and dropped into a seated position on the bed, which squeaked and thumped against the wall again. "Got to keep in shape, Doc," Argus said. "Just because I've got a bum foot doesn't mean I should let the rest get soft."

Wayne rolled his eyes. "You're just trying to make a nuisance of yourself. It won't get you out of here any sooner."

Argus grinned wolfishly. "It's worth a try. I'd hate for Geri to think she beat me."

"Geri can wait. She's got all those new cadets to mop the gym with."

Argus snorted. "Wait'll they get a load of me."

"Yes, I'm sure they'll be absolutely terrified of a random old coot hopping around on one foot," Wayne said dryly.

"Who're you calling a coot? I can take you any cycle with one hand behind my back." Argus's grin widened, and he punched one hand into the other. "Two falls out of three?"

"And be accused of taking advantage of you? Don't be ridiculous. Besides, I have other patients to see this second." Wayne gave the older sprite a gentle punch on the arm. "Now, are you going to relax and enjoy some bad TV, or should I get a restraining field?"

"Well, since you're so busy, I guess I can watch some TV." Argus returned the punch. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your interns, anyway."

As Wayne and the interns left, Rudyard asked, "Doctor MacHewlett?"

"Yes?"

"Is Argus suffering from head trauma?"

Wayne laughed. "No. No more than usual, anyway. He likes to play the tough guy for the cadets. He and Geri have been pounding on each other since we—_they_ were cadets."

Cass interrupted, her eyes bright with curiosity. "So it's true you were a Guardian once?"

Wayne sobered, and he lengthened his stride. "That was a long time ago." His tone indicated that the matter was closed.

"Oh," Cass said, flustered.

One of the nurses touched Cass's arm and whispered, "That's all right. Everyone asks that sooner or later."

Wayne pretended he hadn't heard.

Wayne worked in the quarantine lab that evening. He pulled up his scans of the interns, from before their infection and afterward. The code scrolled across the screens, a seemingly endless procession of zeros and ones. The cycle waned from evening to late night, and still Wayne sat there, surrounded by softly glowing data. He sorted. He decompiled, then recompiled. He tried running simulations. He ignored the comings and goings of other Ward staff. Even the formidable Lil, who usually would have chased Wayne out as soon as her shift began, took one look at his face and went back to the nurses' station, telling her colleagues, "He's not going to listen tonight."

The simulated entity decayed into nonsense yet again. "Argh!" Wayne slammed his fist down on the counter, then propped his elbow up beside the screen and leaned his head on his open hand. 

"Frustrating, isn't it?" The voice was soft.

Wayne jumped around in his seat. "What?"

Turbo was slouched in a chair across the room, his long legs crossed at the ankles in front of him. "It oughta make sense, and you know the answer's there somewhere, but no matter how hard you try, you just can't find it. Sound familiar?"

Wayne's eyes narrowed. "How long have you been sitting there?"

Turbo rose, and stretched. "Long enough to realize you're as stubborn now as you were fifteen minutes ago."

"Don't go there," Wayne snapped. 

"All right, then, take a look at this," Turbo reached over Wayne and tapped a few keys on the networked interface. "What I'm going to show you is classified." A voice-recognition protocol came up, and demanded Turbo's password. Turbo answered in a language Wayne had never heard before. The file opened.

Wayne looked. The screen showed a secured door. Nothing moved in the image, except for the numbers on the clock, which was the only proof that the file was indeed running. "Looks pretty quiet for a classified—" He didn't finish. Several sprites suddenly materialized in front of the door. Most of them were dressed in cadet uniforms, though a few had evidently been in the shower or napping, to judge from their clothing or lack of it. "What the…?"

"Watch. It gets worse." 

The cadets on the screen looked at each other and laughed uproariously. Some of them started dancing, though there was no music. Their eyes were bright, happy, and green. One of them slapped the secure door. The data pad beside the door sparked and beeped, then disengaged with a noisy thump. The door swung open, and the green-eyed cadets danced and laughed their way in. The door swung shut behind them, and the data pad beeped again, locking itself. The file ended.

Wayne sat utterly still, eyes wide. "What in the Net was that?"

"I figure it's some new kind of infection," Turbo answered. 

Wayne shook his head, disbelieving. "It can't be. There was no trace of infection when we admitted them."

"Maybe your scans just didn't pick it up."

"I'll admit that's possible, but…" Wayne shook his head again, then propped his chin on his hand, looking at the screen with his brows furrowed. "What kind of virus would do that kind of thing? Why attack just a few cadets, when there are several hundred sprites around? And why send them into a simulator? What purpose does it serve?" He dropped his head nearly to the countertop, and ran his hand up over his head and down across his face. "It doesn't make any sense."

"No, but now we've got more than reports to work with," Turbo said. "Now we know it's here."

Wayne nodded. Then he called the nurses' station on the third floor. 

A smiling redheaded nurse answered. "Yes? Oh, hello, Doctor MacHewlett." She broke off as she caught sight of Turbo standing behind Wayne. "Prime Turbo?" Her smile disappeared. "Is something wrong?"

Wayne didn't bother to confirm the obvious. "Janine, move those scrambled cadets upstairs into quarantine. Now. Use Infection Protocol 6."

Janine paled to the roots of her flaming red hair. "IP 6? Doctor—"

"You heard me, Janine. I'm locking this place down." Wayne took a deep breath. "Signs of infection include bright green eyes, irrational behavior, and uncontrollable laughter. Victims appear to be capable of instantaneous transport. I'll let you know as soon as I know more."

"Yes, Doctor," Janine said faintly. Then she shook herself and turned away from the screen. "Mona! Go find Patrick and Mickey. We've got work to do."

"I'll let you get to work," Turbo said. "Call me if you need anything." He turned toward the door.

"I hope you're not planning on leaving the Complex," Wayne said.

"I know what IP 6 means as well as you do," Turbo answered wearily. "Since I can't do anything here, I'm going to get back to Headquarters and start sifting those files for mentions of green eyes."

"We might have to go to IP 9," Wayne said quietly, rapidly keying orders into his control pad.

"Systemwide quarantine? You think this thing's spread that far?"

Wayne tapped one last key, and turned to meet Turbo's gaze. "I met an artist outside her shop yesterday. She sold me a bauble for three hundred units."

"So?"

"Have you ever known me to buy expensive art objects?"

"No, but what's that got to do—" Turbo's eyes widened, and he took a step back.

Wayne nodded. "She made a glass ball roll _up_ her arm. She laughed uncontrollably. And her eyes were bright green."

Turbo was silent for a moment. "You think she's the virus?"

"Could be. Or she might be a more advanced case. She told me that until a second ago, she was an accountant."

"Did you get her name? I can check her story."

"I didn't think to ask." Wayne paused. "I wasn't thinking much at all." He looked up at Turbo and demanded, "What color are my eyes?"

"Purple. Same as they've always been."

Wayne let out a breath. "All right. I should get to work."

"I'll get out of your way." Turbo left.

Wayne waited until the door closed behind Turbo. Then he pushed himself away from the counter and rose. He crossed the room, and opened a drawer. The sampling units lay in neat rows, closed in sterile boxes. Wayne opened a box, and contemplated the unit as it lay in his hand. Then he closed his eyes and pressed it against his upper arm. It buzzed, then beeped to indicate that it was finished. Wayne opened his eyes, and carried the sample to his workstation. He cleared the screens and settled in to work.


	4. Secondary Infection Chapter 4

By morning, the Guardian Complex was in full infection-investigation mode. Nervous interns from the Ward had been sent out armed with code samplers and descriptions of the symptoms. A public relations team at Headquarters explained the lockdown to the media. Turbo's teams had tracked down the random-light artist and taken her into custody. And someone had set up a message relay of running cadets. 

It was a second-level cadet who delivered Wayne's wakeup call and his morning messages. "Doctor MacHewlett?"

"Umf." Wayne grunted, then opened his eyes and looked around. The walls of his office swam into focus. "Hm?"

"Sorry to wake you, Doctor, but the short nurse out there told me it was almost time for your rounds."

"That would be Lil," Wayne murmured.

"Yes, sir," the cadet answered respectfully. "I have several messages for you, if you don't mind, Doctor."

Wayne rubbed his eyes and sat up on the battered office sofa. "Go ahead."

The cadet ticked off the messages on his fingers. "Your next-door neighbor says she heard about the lockdown and not to worry about your dog. Turbo wants a progress report. The PR department wants to know if you have a statement ready yet. And Lil says your breakfast is getting cold and Argus is jumping on his bed again." 

"Sounds about right," Wayne said resignedly. "I guess all the communications channels are overloaded? Or is Turbo being paranoid?"

"Turbo didn't want anything important leaking out, sir."

"All right. Can I send some messages with you, then?"

"Yes, sir."

Wayne smiled at the earnest youngster. "Thank Mrs. Mulcahy for looking after Roscoe. Tell both Turbo and the PR department that I haven't got anything new this morning." He got up and stretched. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, if you need an excuse to take a break, tell your squad leader I kept you for an examination." Wayne rose from the sofa. "Don't let 'em run you to deletion."

The cadet grinned. "Thanks, Doctor."

Lil, carrying a tray in her hands and dark circles under her eyes, barged in without ceremony. The cadet took one look at the nurse and fled. 

"You. Eat. Now." Lil put the tray down on the desk and flopped down on Wayne's sofa. "If those dishes aren't spotless when I wake up—"

"Don't even say it, I don't want to know," Wayne said, dropping into his desk chair and picking up his fork. He took a bite and grimaced. "Ugh. I hate hospital food."

"Argus, I don't have time to play this game." Wayne folded his arms and watched his patient bounce on the bed.

"Then turn me loose, Doc!" Argus slammed a fist into the wall. "I can't just sit here!" He launched another punch. There was nothing playful in his manner this cycle.

Wayne's jaw tightened for an instant, then relaxed. "All right, you want something to do? Come with me."

Argus turned in surprise, then jumped off the bed. "Sure, Doc. Anything you want." He hopped in place with his towel-wrapped fists held just below his chin.

Wayne lifted a quizzical eyebrow, then turned and left the room, leaving Argus to hop along after him.

Wayne led Argus to the quarantine lab, and keyed the door open. "You're going to help coordinate the samples. Whatever the people in here tell you to do, you do. You follow contamination protocols like everyone else. Got it?"

"Got it, Doc. Thanks."

Katie, her face still bruised, approached as Argus went to sit down at a workstation. "Doctor MacHewlett?" she asked, her brow furrowed. "Shouldn't he be in bed?"

Wayne nodded wearily. "He should be, but one side effect of the Guardian protocol is an inability to let someone else handle a crisis. We may as well make use of that. Let him do the cataloguing for you. Keep him busy and keep him off that foot. If he gets to be more of a nuisance than he's worth, threaten to send him back downstairs. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Doctor." Katie smiled. "I can do that."

"Good. Stay frosty, Katie. Take a break whenever you need to."

"I will, Doctor." Her eyes shone with what could only be called hero-worship. 

For her sake, Wayne returned Katie's smile. Then he left the lab and went to start his rounds.

The halls of the Ward were busier than usual. The staff hurried back and forth among messenger cadets and interns trotting in and out of the lab with racks full of code samplers. Adding to the confusion was the fact that some of the early-shift staff had showed up for work despite the quarantine, causing arguments among the exhausted third shift as to who got to sleep first. The winners dragged themselves into every unused corner and went to sleep in spare beds, the break rooms, on waiting-room sofas, and in some cases on the floor with a pillow filched from the supply room. The losers tried to coordinate with the first shift to cover all the work. To top it off, punchy-tired laughter had suddenly become a cause for suspicion. Sprites whose eyes had been green since they were coprocessed found themselves undergoing complete scans, plus microseconds of questioning. Nerves frayed and patience wore thin. 

The atmosphere in the quarantine lab was even tighter than that of the Ward in general. Despite the efforts of doctors, nurses, interns, and Argus, the infection remained a mystery. Samples from the twenty-two cadets in quarantine showed no signs of viral activity. Thorough tests and questioning of the artist in custody only confirmed the symptoms—random bursts of laughter, green eyes, and moments of apparently-viral abilities. Wayne wasn't the only one regularly glancing at his reflection on any polished surface.

Turbo called in the middle of the afternoon. "You can lift the quarantine now, Wayne."

"What? Turbo—"

"We just got confirmation. It's everywhere." Turbo looked and sounded like he hadn't slept at all the night before. "I think you should see this for yourself."

"On my way," Wayne answered shortly. He closed the vidwindow and rose.

"Wait, Doc," Argus said, struggling to his feet. "I want to hear this, too."

"_You stay here_," Wayne commanded. 

Argus looked up, startled. He searched the doctor's face for a moment, then sank back into his chair without protest. The other sprites in the room sat absolutely still, their bodies tense and their eyes on Wayne, who'd shed his good-natured patience with three words. Katie's mouth was open.

Wayne took a deep breath, let it out, then said in a deliberately gentler tone, "I'm going to see what Turbo's got. Everyone take a break until I get back." He turned and left without a backward glance.

Argus was the first to speak after the door closed behind Wayne. "That was no med protocol talking." He got up.

"What was it?" Katie squeaked.

Argus shook his head. "I'm not sure, but they say it does strange things to a sprite to give up the Guardian protocol."


	5. Secondary Infection Chapter 5

Wayne hurried across the training field to the HQ building. A Guardian carrying a heavy staff met him at the door. "Hey, Wayne. Long time no see."

Wayne stopped. "Davic? What are you doing here?"

Davic grinned. "Wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to kick some viral ASCII," he said.

Wayne acknowledged that with a lift of his eyebrows, and started for the elevator. "So, where have you been?"

Davic fell into step beside Wayne and shrugged. "Here and there." Davic was a Net, rather than a System, Guardian. He ranged all over the Net, scouting new systems and checking up on small isolated Nodes, which were more prone to piracy and viral attack than larger, well-defended systems like the Supercomputer. 

Wayne nodded toward the staff and observed, "I see Caen's still got claustrophobia."

"Would you like being cooped up in a little box all the time?" Davic twirled his keytool-staff in one hand. "I'm used to it. I kind of like being ready for action." He abruptly stepped away from Wayne and swung Caen in a wide arc toward Wayne's head.

Wayne turned and stood still, arms at his sides and eyes on Davic.

Caen stopped as though it'd hit a wall, a finger's width from Wayne's ear. Wayne, Davic, and Caen froze in a silent tableau for an instant, then Davic swung Caen away from Wayne and spun it from hand to hand behind his back. He struck a pose, then relaxed and grinned at Wayne again. "User, you're cool. You didn't even blink."

"I trust you," Wayne replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "Are you coming up to the Office or are you going to stay here and wave Caen around?"

"I can do better than that," Davic said. He grabbed Wayne's arm and spun Caen into a blur in front of them. "Caen! Portal!"

The whirling staff beeped, then exploded into a Tear, which stabilized into a Portal an instant later. Davic gave Wayne another grin before yanking them both through the Portal.

Davic and Wayne landed squarely in the middle of the War Room, causing a tense moment of raised keytools before they were recognized. Turbo lowered his left arm, and said to Davic, "I was wondering when you'd get here."

Davic grinned easily as Caen reassembled itself and dropped into his outstretched hand. "Sorry I'm late. The traffic was murder."

The corners of Turbo's mouth lifted a fraction. "Come on. I'll give you the lowdown." He moved to one of the workstations at the rear of the room. He seated himself and started tapping commands into the control pad. "Wayne, have you got any idea of how this thing spreads?"

"We can't even separate it from normal code yet, Turbo." Wayne cleared a corner of the table behind Turbo's chair and sat, watching the workstation screen over Turbo's shoulder. "We've tried everything we can to isolate it, but all we get is nonsense." He shook his head. "I've seen some strange things, but I've never seen anything like this."

"Where did it come from?" Davic asked. 

"That's the really interesting part," Turbo answered. He hit a few keys. "I had my boys go through that file of weird accidents. We're definitely not containing this thing with an IP 6 quarantine." A map appeared on the screen. Most of the nodes on the Net glowed red.

Davic's eyes widened. "You've got my circuit marked!" he said indignantly. "I haven't had any viral incidents." 

"No, but you did report an uprising in Cato system," Turbo murmured.

"That?" Davic snorted. "That wasn't an uprising, that was a _joke._ A bunch of kids skipped school and marched around the Principle Office demanding purple doughnuts for lunch. I only reported it because I thought you guys could use a laugh."

"It's no joke," Wayne said. "Did you happen to notice what color their eyes were?"

Davic's brow furrowed. "A lot of them had reformatted their eyes green. Are you saying that wasn't some kids' fad?"

"Far from it," Wayne answered. "Green eyes are a sign of the infection."

Davic stared at him, then turned back to the screen. "This thing is everywhere, then?"

"Yeah," Turbo answered. "It's all over the Net. And look at this." A list of dates appeared on the screen. "The symptoms first showed up about two seconds ago."

"Daemon," Wayne murmured. 

"You got it."

"Wait a nano," Davic protested. "I thought we beat Daemon."

"_We_ didn't," Wayne commented thoughtfully. He watched the data scrolling past on the screen. "I think someone needs to pay a visit to Mainframe, Turbo."

"Right," Davic said, straightening. "Just give me the address, and I'm gone."

"You'll have to wait until I get a kit together, Davic," Wayne told him.

"Stand down, both of you," Turbo interrupted. "No one's going anywhere until we have some idea of what we plan to do when we get there."

"I'd like code samples," Wayne started.

"And I'll go along to watch his back," Davic added. 

Turbo turned in his chair and leveled his eyes on them. "Does either of you have any idea what's been going on in Mainframe the last few seconds?"

"That's Bob's system, isn't it?" Davic asked.

Turbo nodded. "Yeah. And right now there's a Trojan Horse virus loose in Bob's system."

"Let me guess," Wayne said, "He refuses to delete it."

"You got it. And since the Command.com just happens to be his girlfriend, she's going along with it."

"That's a great way to get a system deleted," Davic commented.

"I want a scan of Bob's cadet," Wayne said suddenly. "I don't think it's any accident that this thing started right after he cured Daemon's infection."

"You think Bob's cadet is a virus?" Davic asked, puzzled.

"It's possible," Wayne answered. Turbo opened his mouth, but Wayne cut him off. "I think it's more likely that the carrier virus somehow contaminated the cure. Either way, I need a scan of that sprite."

"You'll have a tough time getting it," Turbo predicted. "The first time I met Matrix I had to put a restraining field on him to keep him from blowing me to bits."

"You're kidding," Davic said. "No cadet would attack the Prime Guardian."

"Nor do cadets carry weapons," Wayne added.

"This one does. He's got a chip on his shoulder and a gun that can punch through armor plate, and he's never seen the Academy."

"What's a sprite like that doing with a Guardian protocol?" Davic wondered aloud.

"That's a long story," Turbo answered. "Just be careful around him."

"So you're letting us go to Mainframe?" Wayne asked quietly.

Turbo looked up at them for a long moment, then rolled his eyes and shook his head before saying, "I must be coming down with the infection. Have my eyes turned green yet?" 

Davic grinned. "Would we tell you if they had?"

Davic obligingly Portaled Wayne directly into the Ward's main supply room. Unfortunately, the Portal opened an arm's length away from a pair of interns, who knocked things over in their startled scramble. Wayne exited the Portal to find a stack of boxes toppling toward him. He crouched and tucked his head under his hands.

Several loud thumps and a whistle later, Wayne looked up. He was surrounded by shredded bits of what had been boxes of sterile gloves. Davic stood over Wayne with Caen leveled at Rudyard and Cass, who'd apparently knocked over the boxes and now cowered in the far corner. Caen was glowing all along its length, and a faint buzz emanated from beneath Davic's fingers.

"You know these kids, Wayne?" Davic demanded.

Wayne rose carefully, his eyes on Davic. "They're my interns. The Portal surprised them. It was only an accident."

"Could have fooled me," Davic said. He lowered Caen, and its glow faded. 

"They couldn't have known we were coming," Wayne said reasonably. "We only made the decision to go a nano ago."

"Go? Go where?" Rudyard asked. He eyed Caen nervously. 

"I'm going to get a scan of the sprite who gave us the cure for Daemon's infection," Wayne answered. 

"But—" Rudyard started.

Wayne interrupted him. "I'm pretty sure there's a connection between the cure for Daemon's infection and the symptoms we're seeing now. I won't be gone long. Turbo knows where I'll be." He took a carryall off a shelf, and began loading it with assorted equipment. "The quarantine's lifted, and the second shift will be coming in soon." He pawed through a box of descramblers. "Have we got a portable analyzer anywhere?"

"Yes, Doctor," Rudyard answered automatically. He didn't move from the corner.

Wayne looked up. "Davic, stop scaring my kids and clean up that mess you made."

Davic scowled. "We've got to get going, Doc."

"Mainframe will still be there in ten nanos." Wayne waved Rudyard and Cass out of the corner. "Cass, do you know where the first-floor broom closet is?"

"Yes, Doctor. I'll be right back." Cass scurried out.

Davic settled himself against a shelf unit and watched Rudyard climb a ladder to reach the portable analyzer perched on a high shelf. "With any other system, I'd say you're right, Doc. But from what I've heard on the Net, Mainframe offlines at least once a decacycle." 

Caen beeped, then closed in on itself until it was only a fat cylinder the length of Davic's forearm. It clicked insistently.

Davic nodded. "Sure, good buddy." He looked up at Wayne. "Is there a recharge unit around here? Making Tears really runs Caen's power down."

Wayne nodded. "If you go up to the lab on the fourth floor—" He stopped. Davic was already out the door.

Rudyard, still on the ladder, paused for a moment before climbing down, analyzer in hand. "Doctor Wayne?" he asked hesitantly. "Would he really have deleted us?"

"Probably not. You just startled him." Wayne accepted the analyzer and tucked it into his carryall.

"Is that another side effect of the Guardian protocol?" Rudyard watched Wayne's face.

Wayne stopped packing and sighed. "No. It's just that only sprites with unusually quick reflexes make it into the cadet training program in the first place. Without Guardian training…" He shrugged. "Well, who knows."

Cass returned with two brooms and a mop. The three of them had cleared the worst of the mess by the time Davic returned. Wayne bullied the Guardian into helping sweep up the last of the debris, then left several messages with his colleagues before leaving the Ward to return to the HQ building.

Davic swung and spun Caen as they walked. A group of cadets doing calisthenics on the training field watched the whirling keytool enviously. 

"So, have you ever been to Mainframe before?" Davic asked.

"Once," Wayne answered shortly. "_Go to level seven."_

__

"So? What are we getting ourselves into?"

"I was infected, Davic." "_We're already at level eight. We've never needed to pass three before this."_

"Oh. Sorry." Davic stopped Caen's swinging with a crisp catch. "She sent you out-system, huh?"

"I was as close as she had to a hacker." "_That is not good enough. Our Lady has a schedule to keep! I cannot accept failure."_

"Hey." Davic nudged Wayne gently. "She used us all, Doc."

Wayne shook his head. "I know. It's just—"

"It's over, Doc," Davic said gravely. "Past and gone."

Wayne's eyes were haunted. "Maybe. Maybe not."


	6. Secondary Infection Chapter 6

To spare Caen's power reserves, Wayne and Davic used a Headquarters Portal generator. Turbo came down to see them off. "You sure about this?" he asked Wayne.

"I'll be all right, Turbo," Wayne said levelly. 

Davic lifted an eyebrow at the two of them. "Is there something I should know here?"

Turbo locked eyes with Wayne for a long moment, then answered, "Just watch his back, Davic."

"Do they know we're coming?" Wayne asked quietly.

Turbo shook his head. "I'm not exactly Bob's favorite sprite right now. They're not accepting calls from Headquarters."

"I guess they haven't caught that Trojan Horse, then." Davic swung Caen across his palm, and the keytool extended into a slender staff.

"Let Bob handle the virus, son. You just get in, find Matrix, and get back out."

Davic acknowledged that with a narrowing of his eyes and a short nod.

Turbo fed Mainframe's address into the generator, then activated it. A controlled explosion rocked the room, and a Tear opened up. Turbo hit another key, and the generator stabilized the Tear. The Prime Guardian watched the Net Guardian and Wayne go. The portal closed behind them, and Turbo was left alone in the room.

The Portal opened onto a quiet, grassy park. Davic glanced around, Caen at the ready. Wayne simply shifted his carryall a little higher on his shoulder and said, "Let's go to the Principle Office. Someone there should be able to tell us where to find this Matrix."

"Why bother them?" Davic swung Caen in a slow circle. The keytool clicked to itself, then beeped as it tugged gently toward the edge of the park. "If we're fast, we can be gone before they even know we're here."

Another voice interrupted. "Not notice someone opening a Portal into my system? I don't think so."

Davic looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Bob."

Guardian Bob drifted a little lower on his zipboard, his expression puzzled. "Davic? What are you doing here?" He looked to Wayne, and his brow furrowed still more. "Doctor?"

"Do you know these two, Bob?" A green-skinned female sprite stopped her zipboard beside Bob's.

"Doctor MacHewlett's the Head Medical Protocol at the Guardian Complex in the Supercomputer," Bob explained. "I don't know why Davic's with him. He should be somewhere on the other end of the Net."

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" She put her hands on her hips and smiled at Bob.

"Oh, right. Uh, Dot, this is Doctor MacHewlett. Doctor, this is Dot Matrix, Command.com of Mainframe."

Dot Matrix let her zipboard drop slowly to the ground, then gave Wayne a firm handshake. "Pleased to meet you."

"Ms. Matrix." Wayne accepted the handshake, then asked carefully, "Are you by any chance related to Enzo Matrix?"

"They're my brothers," Dot replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Because the Doc here wants a scan of a cadet named Enzo Matrix. I'm just along for the ride," Davic replied.

"A scan? What for?" Bob asked.

A small crowd was starting to gather. Wayne shifted his bag again and murmured, "I think it would be best if we explained that somewhere else."

Dot exchanged a glance with Bob, then nodded. "Of course." She called up a vidwindow. "Matrix?"

"Yeah?" 

"Meet us at the Principle Office in ten nanos."

"What for?" Matrix demanded.

"We've got guests from the Supercomputer," Dot answered. She closed the vidwindow before Matrix could reply. "That should get his attention."

Davic, nonplussed, folded his arms and said, "Is he always like that?" 

"No," Bob shrugged. "Sometimes he's worse."

"He's under a lot of strain right now," Dot said apologetically. "He's worried about AndrAIa."

Neither Dot nor Bob seemed to know what to say next.

"AndrAIa?" Wayne prompted.

"Matrix and AndrAIa grew up together in the Games," Bob explained. "She signed on with Captain Capacitor and left about two decacycles ago. Matrix isn't taking it very well."

"Megabyte's not helping, either," Dot added.

"Grew up in the Games?" Davic repeated quizzically. "And I thought _I_ had a strange childhood."

"It's a long story," Dot murmured. "Let's go. Bob, would you mind?" 

"All you have to do is ask, Dot. Glitch!"

Bob's keytool burbled a response, then shot out a flare that exploded into a Tear. An instant later, the Tear stabilized, and Bob swept in a flamboyant bow. "Ladies first."

Dot smiled, and led the way through the Portal.

They stepped through the Portal into the wreckage of an outdated War Room. A repair team stood around and on the dark central console, poking the ruin with various gadgets.

Davic whistled. "Redecorating?"

"Megabyte," Bob answered grimly. "Every time we think we've got him contained, he shows us another new trick."

"Maybe you should stop trying to _contain _him, then," Davic growled.

"Don't start, Davic. I know what I'm doing."

"So do I," Davic shot back. 

A new voice interrupted. "There is an old readme file that says, 'Time settles all arguments'." An ancient sprite glided into the room, and looked up at the visitors.

"Uh, thanks, Phong." Bob turned to Wayne. "Phong, this is Doctor Wayne MacHewlett. He's interested in the cure for Daemon's infection."

"Ah," Phong peered up at Wayne from behind his glasses. "Truly a miraculous program."

Wayne nodded. "It was. I'd like a scan of the sprite who created it." 

Phong blinked, and steepled his long, thin fingers. "I see. Unfortunately, our medical records were destroyed in the struggle against Megabyte." He waved one hand sadly at the fire-blackened walls of the War Room.

"That's all right," Wayne replied. He patted the bag at his side. "I've got everything I need right here." His purple eyes roamed the room. "If there's anyone in need of treatment…" he offered.

"That's very generous of you, Doctor," Dot thanked him.

"If he really is a doctor," a rumbling voice growled.

Wayne lifted his eyebrows and turned to meet the gaze of a burly green sprite with a gun on his hip. "You must be Matrix," he said dryly.

The green sprite grabbed his gun and leveled it at Wayne's head. "Who are you?"

Wayne's eyes narrowed. "I'm someone who doesn't like having a gun in his face," he said quietly.

"And I don't like it when people drop in uninvited," Matrix snarled.

"Easy, Matrix," Bob said soothingly. "I know these sprites. They're friends."

Matrix glared into Wayne's eyes for a long moment, then lowered his gun. "Sorry," he said shortly. "Just being careful."

Davic snorted. "I'd hate to see what you call reckless, then."

A klaxon sounded. "Warning. Incoming Game. Warning. Incoming Game."

"Perfect," Matrix muttered in disgust. "You coming, Bob?"

"I'll be right behind you," Bob answered to Matrix's retreating back. He turned to Davic. "Duty calls."

Davic looked down the hall. "You're not the only one duty's calling." He swung Caen restlessly. "But I've got to stay with the Doc, so go ahead." He slapped Caen against his palm and glanced around. "Hey, where'd he go?"

Wayne ran down unfamiliar streets, toward the rapidly dropping Game. The carryall slid off his shoulder and fell. Wayne laughed, and ran harder. His bright green eyes shone with anticipation as he slid into position beneath the glowing purple cube.


	7. Secondary Infection Chapter 7

The Game landed on the three Guardians. Each of them took in the dark, swampy scene in a glance. "Dead Before Dawn," they said simultaneously. They exchanged a brief look.

"Are you sure Doctor MacHewlett made it into the Game?" Matrix asked Bob.

"Algernon and Binky picked up Wayne's medical kit right outside the Diner," Bob told him. "He had plenty of time."

"Why would a doctor enter a Game?" Matrix's eyes narrowed, and he took his gun off his hip. "That's not the kind of thing a doctor would do."

"Wayne's not exactly an ordinary doctor, Matrix," Bob said.

"And he might have the infection that's driving the entire Net random," Davic added.

"Wonderful," Matrix growled. He tapped his icon. "ReBoot!" 

Bob glanced at Matrix's Game character and winced. "Uh, Enzo, your eye's hanging out."

"Happens every time I play this Game," Matrix muttered as he popped his right eye back into his head. 

"I've never understood what kind of sick creature would come up with this kind of Game," Davic mused. He tapped his icon and rebooted into a rotted zombie dressed in rags.

"Me either," Bob agreed. He rebooted, then looked down at himself. "Yuck. I'm glad Dot—whoop!" His head fell off a mostly-rotted neck and landed in the mud with a _splat_.

Matrix picked up Bob's head and set it back in place. 

"Gee, Bob, I've never seen you lose your head in a Game before," Davic teased.

"Very funny," Bob said sourly. "We should split up. Davic, you go find Wayne while Matrix and I deal with the User."

"Right." Davic swung Caen. The keytool tugged its Guardian into the swamp. "Stay frosty, Bob."

The Game sprites tightened their circle, and their moans took on a more urgent tone. Bony fingers brushed Wayne's jacket.

Wayne laughed hysterically. "That tickles!" He backhanded one of the skeletons, then grabbed another and swung it around in a mad jig. "You know what?" he told his macabre partner. His face was suddenly solemn. "I hate being tickled." He jerked the Game sprite off its feet and sent it tumbling into another pair of Game sprites.

"Doc!" Someone interrupted the dance.

Wayne stopped his dance to look at the intruder. "You spoiled it! That wasn't very nice."

Davic stared. "Doc, your eyes…"

"I've got two of them! Isn't that wonderful?" Wayne picked up the fallen skull of a Game sprite. "More than he's got, anyway." He tossed the skull over his shoulder.

"Caen! Restraint field." Davic pointed Caen toward the green-eyed sprite.

Wayne leaped, and landed in a crouch on top of a tall monument. "Can't catch me! Can't catch me!" He bounded off across the cemetery, throwing himself from headstone to mausoleum to fence in a series of airborne somersaults.

"Doc!" Davic swept a few Game sprites out of his way, and charged after Wayne. 

Matrix hefted a box of ammo to his shoulder. "This is the last one, right?" 

"Should be," Bob replied. "Once we get rid of that one—" he broke off as Glitch squealed. The keytool clicked and squawked. "What? Oh no. This is bad."

Matrix's heavy brows lowered. "How bad?"

"The User found the bonus level."

Matrix's eyebrows shot back up in surprise. "What bonus level? I've played this Game dozens of times, but I never found any bonus level."

"It's only accessible if you have the cheat code. He can get three more lives and the Bottomless Ammo Box down there."

"_What?_"

"When he gets up here, the User will have five lives and unlimited ammunition," Bob said bleakly.

"I guess we don't need to worry about getting rid of this stuff, then." Matrix set the ammo box down.

The tracks ended on the bank of a murky, gray-green river. Davic muttered a few curses that would have made Captain Capacitor's crew blush, then closed his eyes and stepped into the water. His feet slid on the slimy river bottom, and Davic reflexively jammed Caen into the mud and dragged himself back upright. Caen buzzed. "Hey, if I have to wade through this stuff, so do you," Davic growled. He probed the bottom of the river with Caen, testing his footing. "If you have a better idea, I'm listening,"

Caen jerked in Davic's hands, retracting. It folded itself into a neat T shape, then extended the arms of the T into two flattened rotors. A pair of handgrips unfolded from the leg of the T. The rotors began to spin slowly.

Davic grinned. "Now why didn't I think of that?" he asked as the spinning blades picked up speed.

Caen clicked a reply, then yanked its Guardian free of the mud and into the air.

"Be nice," Davic chided as the two of them soared over the river.

"Groovy," the User said as it clomped down the covered bridge.

"He really needs some new lines," Bob commented to Matrix. The two of them were crouched beside the rotten timbers that supported the end of the span.

The bridge creaked alarmingly as the User came closer.

"Now!" Bob said.

Each of them delivered a solid kick to the bridge supports, which snapped. The sprites leaped for the bank as the bridge gave way, dumping the User into the gray-green, greasy water that flowed sluggishly beneath it. 

"Groovy," the User said again. It floundered in the water.

Several pairs of eyes rose from the water, and glided swiftly toward the splashing User.

Bob shoved his head back on straight, then turned to watch as the crocodiles attacked. "Ooh, that's gotta hurt."

"That's the idea," Matrix replied.

A wild shriek interrupted the conversation. Wayne leaped from a dead tree into the water, yelling, "Tally Ho! Tally Ho!"

Bob turned a little too fast, and his head fell off again, rolling down the bank toward the waiting crocodiles. "Matrix! Help!"

Matrix scrambled down the slope, narrowly escaping the snap of reptilian jaws, but his fingers closed just short of Bob's hair as Bob's head rolled into the water and quickly disappeared in the mud.

"Bob!" Matrix cried. He dodged another lunge from a crocodile and plunged into the river.

There was a great deal of splashing and hissing, then a mud-covered form rose from the water.

"Alas, poor Bob. I knew him well." Wayne gestured theatrically with his left hand while Bob sputtered in his right.

"Doc!" Davic dropped out of the sky, Caen folding back into a staff before the Guardian's feet touched the mud.

"Wayne?" Bob said, blinking filthy water out of his eyes.

A crocodile lunged out of the knee-deep river, and Wayne jumped aside. "What a naughty crocodile!" he said delightedly. 

Matrix resurfaced, gasping for breath and struggling to hold a second crocodile's jaws shut.

The User reappeared on the bank, and glanced at the four mud-covered sprites. "Groovy," it said. Then it took off at a run.

"Bob! The User!" Matrix yelled as the crocodile dunked him again.

"What do you want me to do? Bite its kneecaps off?" Bob demanded.

"I'll get it!" Wayne sang. He dropped Bob's head and sloshed his way to the bank.

Davic dove, and caught Bob's head before it hit the water. He jabbed a crocodile in the side with Caen, then got to his feet and waded up the bank. "You owe me big time for this one, Bob." He put Bob's head back on the Guardian's body.

Bob put his hands on his face and twisted. "Davic, if we get out of this in one piece, you can borrow my car for a whole second if you want."

There was a wet _smack_ and a yell. "I could use some help over here, guys!" Matrix bellowed. The crocodile rolled, plunging the sprite back into the frothy water. 

"Glitch! Energy pulse!" Bob aimed the keytool on his left arm while supporting his head with his right.

The pulse hit the tussling pair as the crocodile threw its head sideways. Matrix jumped clear as the crocodile fell back into the water. The reptile's thick tail slapped uselessly at the water as the creature fought to throw off the effect of the energy pulse.

Matrix crouched on the muddy bank, panting hard.

"Matrix! Are you hurt?" Bob asked.

"I've been better," Matrix rasped. He put a hand to his side and breathed carefully. "I think it got a few ribs," he ground out.

"Bob, I hate to interrupt, but the User's headed for the cabin." Davic looked off in the direction the User had gone.

"And so is Wayne. This is bad."

"Very bad," Davic agreed.

"Let's get it over with, then," Matrix growled. He rose to his feet. 

"Davic and I will handle this, Matrix," Bob told the cadet.

"You going to argue with me or go after the User?" Matrix staggered off toward the cabin.

Bob sighed. "Come on, Davic." He sprang into a run, quickly leaving Matrix behind.

Davic matched Bob stride for stride, and asked, "Why in the Net did you make him a cadet?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Bob answered.


	8. Secondary Infection Chapter 8

The User took aim and fired at the sprite capering on the path in front of it.

"Whoops! Missed me! Want to try again?" Wayne spread his arms, grinning at the User. "Let me make it easier." He cartwheeled down the path, and planted himself nose-to-nose with the User. "Try it now," he taunted.

"Groovy," the User said. Its chainsaw rattled to life.

Wayne let the chainsaw rise until it was level with his chin. The User swung—then stumbled forward as the chainsaw sang through the empty air where Wayne's head had been an instant ago. 

Wayne rose from his crouch as the User lost its balance. "You know, I don't think I should trust you," he commented thoughtfully. He gave the User a kick in the back, and it fell facedown in the dirt.

"Groovy," the User said, its voice muffled.

Wayne planted a foot between the User's shoulder blades, and bent to grab the chainsaw. "You shouldn't be playing with these toys if you don't know how to use them," he scolded. "Here, let me show you." He hefted the chainsaw and turned toward a nearby tree. "Watch carefully, I won't demonstrate this again. Or maybe I will. You never know, do you?" He eyed the tree, absently gesturing at it with the chainsaw. "Measure twice, cut once," he said. "Do you have a pencil?" he asked the User.

"Groovy," the User answered.

"Doc!"

"Wayne! Stop!" 

Davic and Bob skidded to a halt as what Wayne was standing on registered.

"Groovy," the prostrate User said again. It started wiggling under Wayne's foot.

"You," Wayne said to Davic in disgust. "Can't I have any fun without you showing up?"

"You're welcome, Doc," Davic said acidly. "Are you going to take out the User or shall I?"

"It's very rude to interrupt someone else's conversation," Wayne informed the Guardian. He swung the chainsaw around toward Davic, and advanced. 

Bob stepped around the doctor, then pointed Glitch at the User. "You're dead before dawn, User," he said. Glitch clicked, then threw an energy pulse at the User. The User exploded into tiny fragments. Bob sighed. "Two down, three to go."

Wayne didn't take his eyes off Davic. "Go away!" he yelled. He swung the chainsaw.

"I'm sorry about this, Doc." Davic sidestepped Wayne's wild swing, then rapped Wayne neatly on the head with Caen.

Wayne spun, letting the chainsaw fall. "That hurts," he growled. He grabbed Caen with both hands.

Caen shrieked, and a ball of glowing light exploded beneath Wayne's hands. Wayne let go of the keytool with a cry, then fell backward, his green eyes rolling back in his head.

Davic knelt beside the fallen doctor. "You didn't have to hit him that hard, Caen," he murmured.

Caen's answer rattled, and a spark of light ran up and down the keytool's length.

"I know, I know. Relax, will you?"

"What'd I miss?" Matrix stumbled into the clearing. He had one hand pressed against his ribs, and in the other he carried a thick tree branch. He lifted an eyebrow at Davic, crouched in the dust beside Wayne. "What happened to him?"

"Caen's a little paranoid about being touched," Davic shrugged. 

"Groovy." The word was followed by a volley of shotgun fire. All three Guardians hit the dirt."Matrix!" Bob yelled over the noise. "Get Wayne out of here! We'll cover you!"

Matrix nodded, and dragged the unconscious doctor behind the tree beside the path.

"Davic! You get to the cabin and hide the Manual of Mortality! I'll keep the User busy." 

"You always hog the fun," Davic commented as he ran past Bob.

"Depends what you call fun," Bob muttered under his breath. "Glitch! Energy shield." Bob gave himself head a solid thump of the top of his head, and advanced into the shotgun fire.

With the User momentarily distracted, Matrix dragged the unconscious Wayne over his shoulder and staggered off. "You could stand to lose a few bytes, Doc," he grumbled.

Wayne, out cold, didn't answer.

Sound. A voice. "Come on, wake up already." The words rang loud in his ears. He slipped back toward the dark silence. 

"Oh, no you don't." 

A hand slapped his face, and his eyes flew open. At first, there was only a green blur. He blinked. 

"That's better," the voice said. "Snap out of it. Tell me your name."

"Wayne. Wayne MacHewlett." The world spun.

"Good. Now, where are you from?"

"The Supercomputer."

"What's your function?"

"I'm a doctor." The blur above him swam into focus. "Matrix? What happened?" He put a hand to the back of his head.

"The Game happened. You didn't come out of it too well." Matrix shifted his weight on the spindly chair beside the sofa on which Wayne lay. "I've been sitting here for nearly three microseconds."

"What Game?" Wayne's head was starting to throb in earnest, and he lay back down. 

Matrix's eyebrows rose. "What do you mean what Game? The one we were all fighting three microseconds ago." His eyes narrowed. "You mean you don't remember anything from the Game?" 

"The last thing I remember is your gun in my face at the Principle Office." Wayne looked around, turning his head very slowly. The room was windowless, indifferently furnished and dimly lit. "Where are we?" 

"My place. It's not exactly the Walldoor Hotel, but it suits my purposes."

Wayne ran one hand over his face. "What color are my eyes, Matrix?"

Matrix lifted an eyebrow. "Purple. Does it matter?"

"Yes." Wayne carefully swung himself upright, and sat on the edge of the shabby couch. "We should go to the Principle Office. I need to talk to your sister."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," Matrix said. His voice dropped an octave, and the young sprite's rough accents disappeared. "You see, I have very specific plans for you, Doctor." Matrix's face flexed, then _shifted_. "Allow me to introduce myself," the virus said with smooth courtesy. "I am Megabyte."


	9. Secondary Infection Chapter 9

"Caen! Scan for the Doc." Davic stopped pacing long enough to glance at the tiny screen the keytool provided.

Caen clicked.

"Well, check again. He has to be somewhere."

"Davic, please calm down," Dot said in a tone of strained patience. "We've got every CPU in the city out looking."

"The why haven't we found them yet?" Davic scowled. "It's been microseconds. Can't your teams work any faster?"

"This is not the Supercomputer, young Guardian," Phong commented. "We process more slowly here in Mainframe."

"How hard can it be to find someone who's out cold on the pavement?" Davic demanded.

"He's probably not unconscious anymore," Dot said evenly. "I'm doing everything I can."

"Easy, you two," Bob soothed. 

Davic slammed Caen's butt end into the floor. "If that virus has him, I won't stop at containment, Bob. We're talking about the Head of the Ward here."

"We're also talking about my _brother_," Dot snapped. 

A vidwindow snapped into existence. Megabyte looked from one belligerent face to another. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked silkily. He negligently examined the tips of his claws. "I can always call again later."

"What do you want, Megabyte?" Bob demanded.

"Why, only to reassure you that your friends are safe. I thought that you might be rather concerned about them by now."

"Get to the point, virus," Davic growled.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," Megabyte said coolly. "You are…?"

"I'm a Guardian who isn't as softhearted as Bob," Davic hissed. 

"I see," Megabyte said approvingly. "Perhaps you can understand that I have the upper hand in this situation, then?" 

"If you hurt either one of them—" Davic threatened.

"You'll do nothing," Megabyte finished. "That is, unless you have some grudge against the good doctor. Now that the niceties are complete, let me present my demands. You will do as I say, or your friends will suffer the consequences." Megabyte extended a claw. "One, you will surrender your PIDs to me."

"Dream on," Davic spat.

Megabyte continued as though he hadn't heard. "Two, you will give me the location of the Supercomputer. Three, you will delete your keytools."

Glitch chittered and exploded into sparks. Caen screeched and projected an image of a hand performing a series of very rude gestures. 

"Charming," Megabyte commented. "I see that keytools learn their manners from their Guardians. You have one microsecond to conclude the usual pointless arguments." He ended the transmission.

Davic growled in his throat. "I _hate_ hostage situations."

"I'm not too fond of them myself," Bob murmured. He hit a few keys on the central console. A screen lit up. A thin blue line extended itself across the screen, then began to zigzag crazily from point to point. Bob sighed. "Typical Megabyte. He relayed the signal all over the city."

"Gone to ground like a Null in a hole," Davic agreed. "The question is: How do we track him down in less than a microsecond?"

"What I don't understand is why we can't find Wayne or Matrix," Bob mused. "Their PIDs should show up on our system scans."

"Not if they're not in the system, Bob," Dot put in. She tapped keys on the central console.

"What?" Bob asked.

"Since we can't find them in the system, they must not be in the system," Dot said matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean? Of course they're here. Where else could they be?"

"In the Net, maybe. Maybe even in the Web."

Davic whirled and glared up at Dot. "Bob, what color are her eyes?"

Dot's deep purple eyes narrowed. "I'm not crazy, Davic. There's just no other explanation."

"Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," Phong quoted.

"Right," Dot said, tapping keys. "My guess is that Megabyte's new lair is just outside Mainframe. That's why we haven't been able to track him."

"But why bother hanging around, if he can get out of the system on his own?" Davic demanded.

"He wants revenge," Bob said grimly. "He wants us to admit he's won."

"So what do we do?" Davic asked.

"I'm working on that," Dot answered. 

"What's your plan, Dot?" Bob asked.

Dot's mouth tightened to a mere line. "We start calling in favors," she replied. "Then we stop Megabyte, once and for all."

Several well-armed binomes escorted Wayne to his cell. The sprite's jaw was set, and his purple eyes were distant. He tolerated a search of his person without protest before the virals prodded him through a door. There were several clicks as the door locked behind him, then silence.

Wayne took a deep breath, and blinked. He glanced around the room. There wasn't much to see. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all the same dull gray color. There was a single round window above a shelf that had been pressed into service as a bed. The only thing that broke the monotone monotony of the room was the form of a sprite sitting on the shelf-bed.

"So they caught you, after all," Matrix greeted. 

"What?" Wayne rubbed the back of his head. "What happened?"

"You put up a pretty good fight," Matrix commented. "Kicked the wind right out of me, then laid out a lot of virals before one of them got you." He shifted carefully on the shelf. "Between you and the crocodiles, I'm gonna be sore for decacycles."

"What crocodiles?"

Matrix lifted an eyebrow. "The ones you nearly fed Bob to." His eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me you don't remember that?"

Wayne shook his head, then grimaced and sank down to the floor, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe you can fill me in. I don't remember a Game, or a fight, or even how I ended up in a Game in the first place."

"I'm not telling you anything, Megabyte," Matrix growled.

Wayne sighed. "Turbo was right about you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"The Prime told me you were suspicious and impulsive." Wayne watched Matrix's face with a calculating eye. "He said the first time he met you he had to put a restraint field on you to keep you from blowing his head off."

Matrix blinked, then relaxed. "All right, maybe you are the real one."

"I'm pretty sure I am," Wayne said dryly. "Where are we, anyway?"

Matrix jerked his thumb toward the window. "Take a look."

Wayne rose, and went to the tiny window. He looked, and his eyes widened. "What in the Net...?"

"It's not the Net. Welcome the Web, Doc."

"The _Web?_" Wayne repeated, staring out the window. 

"Yeah." Matrix shifted again, scowling. "That's why we haven't been able to find Megabyte's lair."

Wayne sank down onto the shelf beside Matrix, and put his head in his hands. "This is completely random."

"You're one to talk."

Wayne lifted his head and met Matrix's eyes with a puzzled expression. Then his eyes went wide again, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. 

"Bob said it was some kind of new infection," Matrix ventured at last. 

"It is," Wayne answered wearily. "But it doesn't act like other infections. It manifests at random, then it just disappears into the code."

"Bob said you think it's got something to do with the cure for Daemon's infection."

"The timing is right. And I still don't know how the cure you created works."

"Nor do I," Matrix shrugged.

Wayne sighed. "Well, as long as we're stuck here, we may as well work on that."

The vidwindow opened, showing a pulsating background of purples and blues. The scene tilted wildly, then a gloved appendage wrapped around the screen and straightened it. A masked Web Rider chittered.

Bob trilled an answer.

Several more Web Riders crowded into view. Their high-pitched chatter overlapped into bursts of feedback.

"What are they saying?" Dot asked, wincing.

"They're very happy to see me, and they want to know how I reversed my degradation."

Davic, leaning against the wall, grinned. "That's not all they're saying."

"You speak Websong?" Dot asked.

"A little. Enough to keep Bob honest, anyway."

"Really," Dot murmured.

"Not now, Dot," Bob said quickly, blushing. He turned back to the screen and trilled a note well outside his usual speaking range.

"Hey, wait a nano," Davic interrupted. He clattered out a phrase.

The answer was short and swift.

Bob laughed.

Davic's blue skin turned pink. "So I haven't had much practice lately. They get the point, don't they?"

"They're pretty sure you don't want them to take some pixels to your grandmother," Bob chuckled. He purred something to the Web Riders.

There was considerable discussion before the answer came back.

"Good," Bob said. He thrummed deep in his throat.

The Web Riders sang back, then closed the vidwindow.

"They'll take care of it," Bob said.

"Bob, have you gone random?" Davic demanded. "Glitch can't possibly reconstruct that much degradation."

Glitch whistled indignantly. Caen joined in, and gave its Guardian a solid rap across the fingers for good measure.

"Ow! Cut that out," Davic told his keytool. He shook his banged fingers and grabbed Caen firmly in the middle with his other hand. "I'm not saying you couldn't handle the job, I'm just saying that there's not enough normal code left for you to work with."

Caen's buzz was unmistakably derisive. Then it launched into a series of clicks and whistles.

Glitch hummed back.

"Would one of you mind telling me what's going on?" Dot asked. 

"Oh, sorry Dot," Bob apologized. "Davic thinks I've gone random because in exchange for their help, I promised the Web Riders the program that Glitch used to reconstruct me." He paused, listening to the chattering keytools, then added, "Glitch and Caen are discussing ways they could make it work on more extreme cases."

"Sir!" Specky yelled from his workstation. "We're open to the Web!"

"What!?" Dot switched on the central screens.

"I'm out of here," Bob cried. Glitch beeped, then exploded into a Portal. Bob stepped through.

Davic crossed the room in two long leaps, and dove through the Portal an instant before it closed.

A vidwindow sprang into existence above the central console. "Ah, my dear Dot. Are you ready to concede to my demands?"

"Not a chance, Megabyte," Dot replied. 

"Hm. I expected as much," Megabyte steepled his clawed fingers. "Would you like to say a tearful goodbye to your brother before I delete him? Or would you rather let Bob fill his head with notions of noble deletion for the good of the system and such nonsense?"

"I've already said everything I need to say to Matrix, Megabyte," Dot answered coolly. "He'll understand."

"Oh, that's too bad. I was so looking forward to watching that oaf realize you were sacrificing him to save your own pitiful existence."

"I've got work to do, Megabyte." Dot closed the vidwindow. She immediately opened another one. "Bob?"

"Yes Dot?"

"Now."


	10. Secondary Infection Chapter 10

"So all you did was change your icon from Game sprite to System sprite mode?"

"Yeah." Matrix fingered his ribs, and winced. 

"You're only making it worse," Wayne told him absently. "Are you sure you don't want me to set that for you?"

"Yes," Matrix grunted crossly. He settled back against the wall again and folded his arms.

"Suit yourself." Wayne stroked his jaw contemplatively. He glanced at Matrix's icon. "Was there any particular reason you were in Game sprite mode?"

"It's to keep the system from deleting Enzo."

"The kid who set your dog on you."

"Yeah."

Wayne shook his head and chuckled helplessly. 

"What?"

"It shouldn't have worked," Wayne laughed. "None of this should have happened. It makes no _sense_." He doubled over, laughing harder. "You…you shouldn't have been able to think at all, much less change your icon. I couldn't. No one could. Except for you, in that crazy little system…" He sat up abruptly, and looked Matrix square in the face. His eyes shone bright green. 

"Bob, are you sure about this?" Davic shifted his weight uncomfortably on the Web creature's back.

"You were the one who wanted to come along," Bob reminded him.

"You didn't tell me these things _bounce _and that Matrix's armor smells like a locker room."

"Are you saying you want to go back to Mainframe?"

"No. I'm just saying that Caen's getting shrill and I can't hold my breath much longer."

"You didn't think being a Guardian was all fun and Games, did you?" Bob teased. 

"Very funny."

"Doc, snap out of it," Matrix said guardedly.

Wayne cocked his head at the other sprite. "Snap out of what? You mean this boring room? OK." He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a flash of light.

Wayne reappeared a moment later in the same spot he'd just left. "That was fun. Let's do something else. Do you dance?" he asked Matrix.

"No." Matrix measured Wayne with his eyes. "How about a treasure hunt?" he suggested slyly. "The first person to find my gun wins."

Wayne's face lit up. "A game! I love games." He disappeared again.

"That's one useful infection," Matrix mused. 

A burst of Websong rang through the pod. Bob gestured to Davic. "That's our stop. The Web Riders will keep the virals busy."

Davic looked at the weapons bristling from the bulbous mass of Megabyte's lair. "I don't see any welcome mats."

"We'll just use the back door," Bob said lightly. "We wouldn't want to disturb anyone. Glitch!" He disappeared into a Portal.

"I've always liked making my own doors," Davic agreed. "Go ahead, Caen." He too vanished into a Portal.

The Web Riders glanced at each other, then shrugged. One of them raised his gun and trilled. 

At the sound, hundreds of armored Web Riders and countless wailing Web creatures dove out of the swirling confusion of the Web, and converged on the viral station.

"Oof!" Bob fell out of the Portal and onto the roof of a parked ABC. He got up and rubbed his sore posterior. "That's going to leave a mark."

"Yaaa!" Davic came in hanging sideways in midair. "Caen!"

The keytool expanded into a large air-filled pillow below Davic. Guardian and keytool landed with a noisy blast of air.

Davic scrambled off the deflating Caen. "Thanks, buddy." Caen, relieved of Davic's weight, took off, racing around the room with a squeal of escaping air.

"Whoop!" Bob ducked as the keytool sailed by. 

Glitch chattered.

Caen's answer was phrased in rude burps. It completed one more circuit around the room, then wound itself around Davic's head, mussing his hair and buzzing.

"Are you finished?" Davic asked testily.

Caen beeped.

Bob climbed down the side of the ABC. "We'd better get moving. Glitch!"

Glitch expanded its tiny screen, then chittered.

"What? Oh, no." Bob said.

"What's the problem?" Davic asked.

"This just got a lot harder," Bob answered.

"I found it!" Wayne crowed as he popped back into the room. "They didn't do a very good job of hiding it." He took up a belligerent stance and pointed Matrix's gun at Matrix. "Go ahead, punk. Make my cycle."

Matrix didn't move, but his right eye clicked and glowed red.

The gun bucked in Wayne's hands, and went off. The round shattered the window. Wayne turned to look as the air whooshed out of the room. Matrix's gun yanked itself free of Wayne's grip, and zipped across the room as Matrix sprang off the shelf.

Matrix grabbed his gun with one hand and Wayne with the other. "We have to get out of here!" he yelled over the roar of the escaping air.

"Why?" Wayne yelled back, grinning insanely.

Matrix shook his head, and pointed his gun at the door. He fired three shots, and the door fell off its hinges. Matrix grabbed one side of the heavy door, and heaved. "Help me!" he yelled at the still-grinning Wayne.

"Where do you want it?" Wayne bellowed back. He took hold of the door.

"Over the window!"

"No problem!" Wayne dragged the door and Matrix across the room, then gave it a push. The wind's howling abruptly died to a mere whistle as the door sealed off the broken window.

Wayne dusted off his hands. "Well, that was fun. Let's do it again sometime, shall we? Have your people call my people." He disappeared.

A voice in the hall barked an order, and running footsteps echoed. 

"Thanks a lot, Doc," Matrix muttered.

"He just teleported again," Bob reported.

"Where is he now?" Davic pried at the lock panel with Caen, which had shaped itself into a sturdy crowbar.

"He's jumping all over the place." Bob answered. "I can't get a fix. And—what?" He stared at Glitch. "Are you sure?" 

Glitch buzzed.

"Oh boy. This is bad."

"Bob, this cycle has already gone _way _beyond bad." Davic grunted as he pulled at the lock panel. "What is it now?"

"Wayne's got viral powers, but he doesn't have viral power limits," Bob explained. 

"So he'll wear himself out. That's good, Bob, not bad."

Bob rolled his eyes. "Davic, did you sleep through _every_ Comparative Code class?" 

"Hey, I passed the finals," Davic answered. "Which is more than you did." He fiddled with the wires inside the lock. "But refresh my memory, professor. Why is it a bad thing that Wayne's hyperactive?"

"Because sprite code isn't designed to handle that kind of power load," Bob said bleakly. "If we don't find Wayne soon, he'll burn out every byte in his body."

"OK, that's bad," Davic said. He gave the wires one last poke, and the door slid open.

Loud clicks and the _zing_ of weapons powering up greeted them.

"This is worse," Davic said.


	11. Secondary Infection Chapter 11

The virals attacked, and Bob and Davic leaped out of the doorway.

"Davic! Close the door!"

"I don't think that's going to help!" Davic snapped Caen into a spin, and it hung in the air in front of the open door. Several energy beams slammed into the glowing circle generated by the spinning keytool, and it buzzed as it slowly retreated into the hallway. Davic watched Caen for an instant, then shook his head. "We've got to Portal out of here! Caen can't hold back that much force for long!"

"Come on, then!" Bob threw himself across the doorway. Glitch exploded into a Portal on the opposite wall.

"Caen!" Davic snatched his keytool just as Bob pulled him through the Portal.

Matrix vaulted over a control console, pulling it down after him. Viral fire tore into the console. Sparks showered over the sprite lying prone behind the console. 

The blasts stopped, and a voice said, "You are trapped. There is no way out."

There was silence for a beat, then Matrix's gun sailed into the air. 

"Gun! Multiple target acquisition!"

There was a roar of weapons fire, then silence again.

Matrix's gun dropped back into its owner's hand. "There's always a way out," he told the unresponsive binomes on the floor as he rose.

"I beg to differ," said a smooth, low voice.

Matrix spun, aimed, and fired in one smooth motion.

Megabyte simply stood there. The shot hit his polished skull and exploded, leaving…a dent. The virus chuckled. "Oh really now, boy, is that the best you can do?" He took a step toward Matrix.

Matrix's right eye buzzed, and he adjusted his aim and fired again.

Megabyte ducked aside from the round aimed at his eye, but kept coming forward. "You know, I really should thank you. I rather enjoy the Web."

"You would," Matrix snarled. He took a step toward the door, keeping his eyes and his gun on Megabyte.

"Of course." Megabyte replied. "The Web destroys the weak, and nurtures the strong and the ruthless. Quite a delightful place, really." He leered at Matrix.

A dull boom rang through the station, and the floor bucked. Matrix was thrown off his feet. Megabyte, however, threw his claws into the wall and remained upright.

"I suppose that little bump came with the compliments of the Web Riders," Megabyte mused. "I really must exterminate them some time, they're becoming an annoyance."

"Trust me. It gets worse," Matrix growled as he scrambled to his feet.

"You know, I think you've said that to me before," Megabyte answered. "Is your processing capacity really so limited that you must repeat yourself? What a pity. No wonder your little Game sprite left you."

Matrix let out an inarticulate yell, and charged.

Megabyte's tentacles wrapped around the raging sprite, and Matrix's war cry ended in a sudden yelp.

"Temper, temper, boy," Megabyte chided. Matrix stared dully back at the virus, his red-irised left eye the only bit of color in his gray face.

A few virals poked their heads into the room as the floors shook again.

Megabyte let Matrix drop to the floor. "Ah, captain. I trust you have something important?"

"Yes, sir. We're under attack, sir."

"So I surmised," Megabyte said dryly. "How is it that the Web Riders broke through our outer defenses, captain?" His tone was silk over ice.

The captain fidgeted under the virus's gaze. "I've never seen so many Web creatures, sir. The Riders must have brought every pod in the Web! We're outnumbered."

"I see. And where is our guest from the Supercomputer?"

"All over the station, sir. We can't pin him down. And—" the captain paused.

"Yes?"

"Bob's here, sir. He and another Guardian were spotted on Level Two ten nanos ago."

"Indeed," Megabyte said. He glanced down at Matrix, who sprawled on the floor like a forgotten child's toy. "Perhaps a different approach is in order. Take this prisoner to the Interrogation Room. I need him to extend a few party invitations." 

"Phong! Is there any word from Bob?" Dot asked.

"No, my child. The Web Riders have signaled that they have begun their attack, but nothing more."

"Sir! Ma'am!" Specky yelled excitedly. "The viral forces are retreating, Commander," he continued in a more controlled tone.

"Oh no, they're not," Dot answered. She opened a command window. "This is Commander Matrix to all Mainframe forces. Cut off the viral retreat."

"What!?" Specky cried, his voice climbing high in panic.

Dot ignored him and went on. "Do anything you have to to keep those ABCs in the system."

"Sir!" another binome interrupted. "I'm reading more blips coming in from the Web!"

Dot switched her screens, and watched the tiny points of light streak toward the Principle Office. "It's about time."

Turbo glanced at the clock on the War Room wall, then dropped his eyes back to the glowing screen in front of him. He scanned the incident data yet again, then broke off, grimacing and rubbing his eyes. He turned in his seat. "Comm, report."

"Cato System still isn't answering hails, Prime. Several more systems have confirmed the presence of the infection, but they've got it under control. Kelley over in Toscanini Node says the Command.com's gone green-eyed, she's trying to keep things online but the system oscillations are getting worse. Leonard called in; he's OK but he can't hold on alone much longer." 

"Have we got any cadets left?"

"No, sir. Begging your pardon, sir, but since all the cadets have been sent out on emergency crews, I asked Geri to go give Leonard a hand."

"Good thinking, Nichols. Any word from Davic or Wayne?"

"No, Prime." 

Turbo's worn face creased. "What's taking them so long?"

Glitch let out a squeal, which bounced off the walls of the narrow air duct. Bob, flat on his belly, jumped, banging his head. A dust bunny fell out of his hair. "Glitch, I thought I asked you—what?"

"What is it?" Davic hissed. He sneezed, a sound that echoed like a small explosion in the long duct. 

Caen, wrapped around its Guardian's head like a miner's lamp, bent its round face in front of Davic's eyes, and showed him a small schematic. 

"Oh, great," Davic rasped. 

"Ah, Bob, there you are." A vidwindow popped open in the duct in front of Bob, blocking the way forward. "And you brought your little friend. How delightful. I do so enjoy guests."

"You don't want to do this, Megabyte," Bob ground out.

"Oh really?" the virus said in mock surprise. "How very strange. I thought I was doing exactly as I pleased."

"It's not a good idea to cross a Guardian, virus," Davic growled.

"It is even more foolish to challenge _me_, Guardian," Megabyte shot back. "You are bound by the principles ingrained in your very protocol. I have no such restrictions."

"You're just as much a prisoner as we are, Megabyte," Bob said. "Your code forces you to destroy, to infect, and to corrupt."

"Now let's not start that again." Megabyte said dismissively. "Surely you realize by now that you are merely wasting your time attempting to appeal to my better nature. _I am a virus_. I have no better nature."

"Your sister did," Bob answered.

"Hexadecimal was little more than chaos personified," Megabyte purred. "She was power without function. I, on the other hand, have both power and function. Observe." He stretched out one arm, and his tentacles extended.

The camera followed the writhing tentacles to the floor, where Matrix lay unmoving. 

"No!" Bob cried.

The tentacles wound around Matrix, one pinning his arms and the other winding around his legs. Matrix jerked, and a small, bright flash of light ran from his chest up Megabyte's tentacles and disappeared into the virus's arm. The sprite went limp again, flickering in and out of existence.

The camera returned to Megabyte's face as he withdrew his tentacles. "You see, Bob, I hold power over you. You must try to save the life of your friend, even though he is nearly deleted and the odds of your defeating me are nearly non-existent. You need not crawl through the station, Guardian, unless such a mode of travel satisfies some Guardian notion of propriety. I know where you are, and I have what you want. You will come to me sooner or later." The vidwindow closed.

"That's it," Davic spat. "I'm not just going to delete him, I'm going to carve him up into little tiny pieces, _then_ delete him one piece at a time."

"That's not helping, Davic," Bob said sharply.

"No, but it sure makes me feel better. Kind of warm and fuzzy, you know?"

"You're a barbarian, Davic."

"Yes. Your point?"

Bob shook his head and dragged himself forward. "Come on. There's a vent ahead we can use to get back into the corridors."

"Why not just blast a hole in the duct? The virus just pointed out that we don't need to bother with stealth anymore."

Bob stopped and turned as much as he could in the narrow duct. "How much power does Caen have left?"

"About half a charge. Enough to do the job."

"Barely. Glitch is lower than that—all those Portals ran us way down. There's no way to be sure what Megabyte's put between us and Matrix, not to mention how much power we'll need to hold Wayne if we can ever catch up to him. Are you willing to risk their lives to spare yourself some crawling?"

Davic was silent for a moment. "Time was, we'd have charged into that room and to crashes with the consequences."

"Time was, we were cadets and the worst that could happen was to blow another sim," Bob answered. "Things have changed."

"Mm."

The two of them wiggled down the duct toward the vent without another word.


	12. Secondary Infection Chapter 12

A squad of CPUs rose from the Principle Office, streaking toward the newcomers dropping out of the Web. The squad cars swung into position above, below, and to either side of the two ships. Their coms were buzzing with a three-way conversation.

"So, what did you call in the cavalry for, Sugar?" Mouse asked Dot.

Dot looked solemnly out of the split screen in Mouse's cockpit. "Ray's with you, right?"

"He's taking a little nap in the back," Mouse assured the Command.com. "We've been _real_ busy lately, if you know what I mean."

Dot's eyebrows shot toward her hairline, and a faint suggestion of pink touched her cheeks.

"I see you have a battle in your system, good lady," Captain Capacitor interrupted from the other side of the split screen. "Shall I render assistance?"

Dot gave herself a little shake. "No, thank you, Captain, we've got that under control. I need your help with a bigger problem."

"Just name it, honey," Mouse offered.

"You might regret that offer after I tell you what I need, Mouse."

"We are your loyal friends, good lady. We would not abandon you in your microsecond of peril," Captain Capacitor reassured her.

Dot smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks, both of you. Now, here's my plan."

Wayne popped into a large room with a deafening _bang_. He staggered, then put one hand to his head. "I should take a break," he told himself. He grinned as he wove aimlessly around the empty room. "Why, Doctor, I do believe you've been working too hard. Go take your dog for a walk and enjoy the sights." He tripped over his own feet and fell against the wall. "I believe you're right, nurse. Here, puppy." His green eyes fixed on a patch of empty floor, then tracked toward the door. "Come back, puppy! Good dog!" He fell over his own feet again, and sat back up, giggling. "Good puppy! Now roll over!" He rolled onto his back and wagged his feet in the air, then collapsed onto his side, doubled up in laughter. "Oh, it won't be long now," he panted. "Playtime's almost over." His eyes shone bright in his utterly-straight face as he disappeared with another resounding boom.

The War Room of Guardian Headquarters was busy, but nearly silent. The watchful staff glided about their duties in their stocking feet, and spoke in low tones into their headsets, efficiently passing information from one station to another. The reason for their quiet was collapsed over his dark station, surrounded by energy-bar wrappers and internal reports. Turbo's headset dangled around his neck, and Copland blinked on its Guardian's left arm, monitoring. The shift changed, and the night staff took their places with barely a sound.

The scan tech was the one to break the quiet. His screen lit up, and he turned in his chair. "Commander!" he called in an urgent whisper. His call sounded in everyone's earphones as a near-shout. 

The shift commander shot the youngster a quelling look, then quickly crossed the room. "What is it, George? And keep your voice down."

"Sorry, sir," George said in a tense murmur. "But we've got major activity out there."

The commander bent over to look at George's screens. "Is that what I think it is?"

George nodded. "Web traces, sir. Lots of them."

"And all centered on Mainframe. Where else?" the commander sighed.

"That's where Doctor MacHewlett and Davic went, sir." George reminded him worriedly.

"I know." The commander watched the glowing screens for a long moment. "Any idea what left these traces?"

"The signals are pretty scrambled, sir. Most of them are microseconds old. It'll take a while to reconstruct their data shadows."

"Do it," the commander said. He stared at the screens for another nano. "Comm, has there been any word out of Mainframe?"

"Nothing, sir. They're receiving messages, but they're not replying."

The commander shook his head. "Small-system stubbornness. Too proud to admit they need help."

"And tough enough to manage without it," a rough-edged voice finished. Turbo came to stand beside the commander. He glanced at the screen, and his brows lowered. "I hope you were planning to wake me, Will," he said quietly.

"You needed the rest, sir," the commander replied. "If we'd found anything viral, we'd have informed you."

Copland buzzed.

"Now don't you start," Turbo said reproachfully. "So, what have I missed?" he asked the commander. He scanned George's screens. His eyebrows rose. "Web traces?"

"Yes, Prime," George said respectfully. "Headed right for Mainframe. Sir."

Turbo sank back against the console and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "If this thing has spread into the Web, we'll never be able to stop it. All it would take is one green-eyed Web creature—" he stopped. "Will, you have the conn."

"Where are you going?" the commander asked.

"To end this."

Bob and Davic dropped out of a vent above a corridor, then stumbled and fell against the wall as the station shook again. The high-pitched cries of Web Creatures sang through the air ducts, along with the hiss of escaping air and the groan of straining metal.

Caen beeped, and Davic glanced down at it. He shook his head. "We'd better find your cadet and the Doc soon, Bob," he said. "This place won't take many more of those hits."

"That's not our biggest problem," Bob answered.

"Do I want to know what you're talking about?"

"Listen, Davic. What do you hear?"

Davic paused, then shrugged. "Nothing much. I can hear your decompiling buddies yelling out there."

"Right. No virals, no doors opening and closing, not even a duct fan. It's quiet—"

Davic held up one hand. "Don't say it. Just tell me what kind of trouble we're in."

"Warning. Sector undock in three nanoseconds," a dispassionate voice interrupted.

"Does that answer your question?" Bob asked.

Davic rolled his eyes. "Portal out?"

"We should be able to make the sector lock in time." Bob grinned. "Unless your processor's slowed down, that is." He took off down the corridor.

"In your dreams, city sprite!" Davic sprinted after Bob.

Deep in the station's gut, Megabyte chuckled. The blue blips representing the two Guardians raced toward the station's core. 

"Run, fools, run. Hurry to your demise," Megabyte purred at the screen. He turned away from the scanners. "Herr Doktor! Have you finished your preparations?"

"Yes, Lord Megabyte," the mad scientist replied. "All that is left to do is to throw the switch."

"Excellent," Megabyte purred. He strode to the center of the room, where Matrix lay spread across the central console. "You always were good bait, boy," he told the unconscious sprite. He glanced up at his captain of the guard. "Where is our other guest?"

"His energy signature dropped off our screens several nanos ago, sir."

"Just as I theorized," Herr Doktor said in satisfaction.

"Yes," Megabyte murmured. "I do like it when a problem remedies itself."

Bob skidded to a halt in the sector lock, with Davic only a breath behind him. 

"Glitch—key," Bob panted.

Glitch burbled, then lifted off Bob's arm and planted itself on the wall beside the far door.

Davic shut the other door behind himself and put his back to the wall to breathe. "Not bad, city sprite. That was almost a workout."

Caen beeped.

"Now what, Caen?"

Caen clacked, and rattled out a phrase of clicks and whistles.

Davic paled. "You what?"

Caen whistled. Glitch hummed something back as numbers flashed across its screen.

"See if it can locate Matrix," Bob said tersely.

Caen beeped.

"It's got him," Davic said hoarsely. "But the Doc's gone. His signal just disappeared." He slid down the wall into a crouch, and lowered his head, still breathing hard. 

"That could mean lots of things," Bob replied hurriedly. "Caen's not at full power, and nor is Glitch. He could be outside their range, or his energy levels could be too low for them to pick up."

"Or maybe there's nothing to find," Davic said bleakly.

"I won't believe that," Bob said firmly. "Not while there's a chance Wayne's still processing."

"Slim chance," Davic said.

"Is there any other kind?" Bob asked. He grabbed Davic by the arm and dragged him to his feet. "Come on. We've got a job to do, Guardian."


	13. Secondary Infection Chapter 13

A pair of burly sprites wrestled a green-eyed cadet down the corridor to Quarantine as Turbo stepped off the elevator.

"Prime?" One of the sprites stared for a moment, his grip on the thrashing infectee loosening.

"Prime, Prime, it's the Prime!" the green-eyed cadet sang giddily. She wrenched an arm free and swung toward Turbo. "Are you an optimist?' she asked as she balled her fist. She aimed a punch at Turbo's head.

Turbo deflected the blow, and the cadet's fist slammed into the wall beside the Prime Guardian. 

"Crashes!" The paramedic grabbed for the flailing cadet as his partner struggled to hang on. "I'm sorry, Prime. She's stronger than she looks." He shifted his feet and changed his grip on the struggling sprite. The top of her head was level with his shoulder.

"So I noticed," Turbo replied, giving his right arm a shake. "Looks like you're getting a workout." 

"Yes, sir," the other paramedic said respectfully. "We should get her into quarantine, sir."

Turbo nodded. "Carry on." He headed for the launch bays.

Launch Bay Two was a hive of activity. Mechanics, pilots, and cadets hurried back and forth between rows of ships. Someone tossed Turbo a heavy headset. Jamming the thick earphones onto his head, Turbo set off across the wide floor.

The Prime Guardian's presence did not go unnoticed. Turbo returned smiles, waves, and salutes as he headed toward a landing pad occupied by a half-disassembled freighter and a grease-spattered team of mechanics. A short, stocky sprite with close-cropped purple hair turned as a cadet pointed. 

Turbo gestured toward the Dockmaster's shack. The purple-haired sprite nodded, then waved a few instructions to his crew.

The Dockmaster's "shack" was actually a set of offices, storerooms, and machine shops at the back of the launch bay. Its wide windows offered a good view of the entire floor, and its soundproofing dulled the noise of running engines.

Turbo settled down on the edge of a table and took his headphones off as his companion closed the door behind himself. 

"What are you doing down here, Prime?" the other sprite asked.

"I need a ship, Charlie. Web-safed and well-armed."

Charlie's brow wrinkled as his eyes narrowed. "Trouble?"

"I wouldn't ask unless it was trouble, Charlie."

The Dockmaster nodded. "Of course not." He glanced at a screen that took up most of the rear wall of the room. "Take the Riot Wing. They're all new since Daemon. Plenty of firepower, in case you get into trouble."

Turbo shook his head. "I only want one. You need the rest here."

"I won't deny that, but we also need a processing Prime Guardian."

"I can take care of myself, Charlie. Besides, any one of those pilots could show up with the infection at any time."

"So could you."

"Yeah, and I don't want to take a bunch of kids out with me. Give me a ship, Charlie."  
Charlie sighed. "You're the boss." He touched a blip on the screen, then drew his finger across the gleaming surface to the Launch Bay. 

"Anytime you want the job, let me know."

Charlie snorted. "You're not getting off the hook that easily." He tapped the screen, and the line he'd drawn blinked gold. "There. Priority One. You'll be off in half a microsecond." He turned back to Turbo. "You mind telling me where you're going?"

"Mainframe."

A Portal opened above Mainframe's Data Sea, and a Guardian escort ship glided out, engines humming. Several CPUs rose from the city.

"Unidentified ship, this is the Lieutenant Algernon of the Mainframe CPU force. Please identify yourself."

"This is Prime Turbo of the Guardian Collective. I need to talk to the Principle Office."

There was a pause, then the lieutenant responded, "Very good, sir. You have been cleared for landing."

"Thanks," Turbo acknowledged. He set the little ship down, then left it running as he marched up to the massive blast doors of the Principle Office. He knocked.

"Mainframe Principle Office, we're ready for anything, how may I help you?" a young voice asked.

"Enzo?" Turbo said.

A vidwindow popped open. "Turbo? You're here? _Cool_!"

"Hello, Enzo," Turbo greeted. "No school today?"

"It got cancelled 'cause of the viral attack," Enzo explained. "It's too bad you missed it, it was totally random!"

"I'll bet it was," Turbo agreed. "Listen, Enzo, I've got to talk to Bob and your sister. Can you open this door for me?"

"What's the password?" Enzo prompted. 

"Password? Enzo, you know me."

"No one gets into the Principle Office without the password, Turbo, sir," Enzo replied. "If you don't know the password, you could be Megabyte! He can be anyone, anywhere!" The boy warmed to his subject. "He even transformed into Frisket, once. Who would suspect a dog? He got all the way into the War Room, and he infected Dad and made him take me prisoner. But I let Dad out of his helmet and he—"

"Enzo!"

"Yessir?"

"Is your sister around?"

"No, sir. But Phong and my Dad are here," Enzo offered.

"Let me talk to your father, then," Turbo said.

"Sure, Turbo. I don't really think you're Megabyte, I'm just not allowed—"

"I understand, Enzo. Just patch me through, OK?"

"Yes, sir, Turbo sir!" Enzo saluted, then rose from his seat. "Dad? Hey, Dad!" His running footsteps carried to the vidwindow pickup.

There was a brief, unintelligible exchange off-camera, then a somewhat staticky voice said, "Yes, what is it?" 

The picture skewed, then blipped out entirely. 

"Enzo!" the voice said reproachfully.

"Sorry, Dad." 

The picture came back, this time showing Welman Matrix.

"Oh, hello, Turbo," the scientist said. "What can I do for you?"

"One of my Guardians and a doctor from the Academy Portaled here a few microseconds ago, and they haven't reported in. We also picked up Web traces headed your way."

"Those would be the virals, most likely," Welman commented. He tapped a few keys on an unseen console. "The signal from the _Saucy Mare II_ won't reach the Supercomputer for at least another thirty-two microseconds."

"Capacitor's involved in this?" Turbo asked.

"Yes," Welman replied. "Dot financed the ship's construction, so Captain Capacitor owes her a few favors. They've gone out into the Web after Bob and your Guardian."

"Is Doctor MacHewlett with them?"

"Well—" Welman hesitated.

"He went random and ran right into a Game, then he and Matrix were kidnapped by virals!" Enzo bounced into view, then grabbed the vidwindow with both hands and dragged it down to his eye level. "Dot figured out that Megabyte's got a hideout in the Web, so Bob and the other Guardian went to rescue them, and then Megabyte's forces attacked the city! We totally trashed them!" The boy waved his hands for emphasis, and knocked the vidwindow sideways. "Even Bob's apartment is still standing! We've got Megabreath on the run this time!" 

"Enzo, settle down before you break something," Welman reproved the child. He righted the vidwindow. "Sorry about that, Turbo. He's a little rambunctious."

"Kids almost always are," Turbo replied. "Thanks, Welman, you've helped me out a lot." He closed the vidwindow and jogged back to his ship.

"All stop! Deploy the Web armor! Call the Surfr to the deck!" Captain Capacitor's bellowed orders carried from stem to stern, and echoed below decks.

"Answering all stop, sir!" Mr. Andrews' voice replied. "We be at the Edge of Beyond!" 

The _Saucy Mare II _ glided to a stop, her massive timbers creaking gently.

"I guess that's my cue," Ray Tracer said wryly. He rose from the galley table.

"Remind the Web Riders that they're not really attacking," Dot said anxiously. "We've got to get Bob and the others safe before we begin the real assault."

"I'm make sure they're pulling their punches," Ray reassured the Command.com.

"Megabyte won't be," Mouse declared. "Viruses don't do anything halfway."

Dot's lips thinned. "Nor do I," she answered.


	14. Secondary Infection Chapter 14

Davic skidded to a halt the junction of two corridors. "Which way?" he demanded of Caen.

Caen beeped, and tugged Davic to the left. Then it buzzed, and burst out in whistling racket as it dragged Davic back toward the right.

Bob jogged up behind Davic. "Is something wrong?"

"Caen just picked up the Doc's signal," Davic answered excitedly. "He's still processing! Come on, he's just around the bend."

Bob put his hand on Davic's arm. "Wait. It could be a trap."

"Bob, this whole _place_ is a trap," Davic said impatiently. "Caen's verified the signature. You were right—it's too weak to pick up from a distance."

"That's what I'm worried about," Bob muttered darkly. "Megabyte could have heard that conversation and set this up for us." He scanned the ceiling and walls with his eyes. "You go first, and follow that signal. I'll watch your back."

Davic's eyes narrowed, and he nodded. He approached the right-hand hallway, and stopped just before the threshold. Caen beeped softly in its Guardian's left hand, and gave a gentle tug. Davic listened for an instant more, then followed his keytool's directive. Bob trailed a few steps behind, his expression alert.

There were two Web Riders waiting as the _Saucy Mare II _thundered out of her Portal and into the Web. The ship, half again the size of her predecessor, dwarfed her escorts.

Websong burst from the ship's speakers. The Web Riders circled the _Saucy Mare II, _then rode a distance away and turned back. 

"Looks like they want you to hurry up, Captain," Mouse observed.

"Then let us oblige them, Madam," Captain Capacitor replied. "Mr. Andrews! Engines on full!"

"Aye-aye, sir!" the helmsman acknowledged. 

"Keep an eye on your sensors, Gavin," Dot warned as the deck began to vibrate. She caught hold of the rail as the ship accelerated. "We're not sure what Megabyte may have left for us out here."

"Ray and the Web Riders have taken care of that, Dot," Mouse reminded her.

There was an electrical shriek from below decks, then a teeth-rattling _boom_. 

A vidwindow popped open in front of Captain Capacitor. "Captain? We've got a problem."

"So I guessed, AndrAIa," the captain replied, straightening his hat. "Just what sort of problem is it?"

AndrAIa turned to look at a readout beside her. A golden chain fastened to the tip of her pointed ear flashed against the dark background of the black bandanna tied over her hair. "We just lost a power coupling on the secondary generator, Captain," she went on. She turned back to the vidwindow. "That freeware regulator shorted out, and the generator went from cold to full power in less than a nano."

"Freeware?" Dot repeated incredulously. She lifted an eyebrow. "What were you doing using that stuff? Freeware's worth exactly what you pay for it."

Captain Capacitor pretended he hadn't heard. "We must go into battle, fair lady," he told AndrAIa. "Our friends await our arrival."

The ship lurched, then started forward. A droning whine surged through the ship. Websong wailed across the decks.

"The primary generator can supply us with enough power for the engines, Captain, but we're going to have to use our reserves to run everything else," AndrAIa said, watching her screens. "Including the deck guns."

The Websong grew louder, and the ship's bow jerked to starboard.

"Captain!" a crewman called. "The Web Riders!"

Captain Capacitor turned to the sensor screens, which showed a pair of dots well in front of the ship. "Go to the bow cameras," he ordered. The scene on the screen shifted.

"Well, that's friendly," Mouse observed.

Their escorts had thrown lines around the ship's armored bowsprit, and harnessed their mounts to tow the massive ship.

"Captain!" Mr. Christopher cried from the bow. "We've just picked up the signature of a Portal opening behind us!""

"How far behind us, my lad?"

"Uh—" Mr. Christopher floundered. He glanced at his screens and suppressed a squeal. "Eep! Sir! Something came out of the Portal, and it's headed this way!" He was audibly rattling. "It's closing fast! It's carrying weapons! _It came out of Mainframe_!"

"Steady down, lad!" Captain Capacitor roared. "One ship is no match for the crew of the _Saucy Mare_."

"But it couldn't have come from Mainframe," Dot said, puzzled. "There aren't any Web-shielded ships in the system."

"Except for mine," Mouse put in. "And _nobody _could get my ship off the ground without my access codes."

"At the rate the blaggard is closing, my dear ladies, I'd say our questions will be answered soon enough," Captain Capacitor remarked. "Mr. Jimmy, kindly ready the deck guns."

A mumbling voice echoed along the empty corridors, along with irregular thumps. 

Bob and Davic stopped, and stood absolutely still for a long moment, their faces and bodies tensely alert. Caen, held tight in Davic's left hand, turned slowly to point at the corridor wall a little ways ahead of Davic.

The thumps and the mumbling grew louder, and the patch of wall Caen indicated suddenly glowed bright red, then burst into hissing sparks. A shape stretched the glowing wall, then tore through it in a sudden burst of light.

Caen started beeping, and Glitch joined in as Davic and Bob stared at the shimmering form that crumpled to the floor, muttering.

"Wayne?" Bob asked unbelievingly.

"Doc?" Davic dropped to one knee, and gingerly reached out toward the flickering sprite.

Wayne glanced up sharply. "Guardians?" he asked. He pulled himself to a more or less sitting position, propped against the wall. "Help me. It's the infection." His eyes were wide, pleading, and purple.

"We know, Wayne. We're here to help," Bob reassured him. 

"Hold on, Doc," Davic added, putting one hand on Wayne's shoulder. "We're gonna get you out of here."

"No." Wayne shook his head. He struggled to his feet, took a step away from the wall, then collapsed to his knees. "No," he panted. "I can't leave my city. It's—gonna crash." He looked up at Bob, then to Davic. "Help me. Help me save my city."

Davic half-turned and exchanged a look with Bob. Bob glanced at Wayne, then dropped his eyes to Wayne's icon and lifted an eyebrow. Davic nodded shortly, then turned back to Wayne. "We've got to get to the Principle Office, Wayne," he said. He slid his hand gently off Wayne's shoulder, reaching around the stricken sprite with one arm and lifting them both to their feet. As the two of them passed Bob, Davic opened the fingers of his right hand, and let Wayne's purloined icon fall into Bob's hand. 

"Why don't you tell me what happened to your city, Wayne," Davic said in a friendly tone. Caen turned gently in its Guardian's free hand. 

"A bug. Just a bug in the system," Wayne gasped. He was barely lifting his feet, his weight on Davic.

Bob fell into step behind them, and lifted his left arm. He put Wayne's sputtering blue icon on top of Glitch's screen. 

"What kind of bug?" Davic asked. 

Glitch whirred softly, and Wayne's icon glowed bright blue for an instant, then faded as the keytool clicked.

"Virus had left it there. Just waiting for the right time. It was only a matter of time," Wayne said. He dropped his head to Davic's shoulder.

"He's out," Davic said. "Did you help him along?"

Bob shook his head. "I didn't have to. He's dying, Davic." He took Wayne's icon off of Glitch.

"Tell me something I didn't know," Davic said grimly. "Is there anything we can do?"

Bob heaved a sigh and shook his head. "I don't think so. We—" He stopped as Glitch clicked. "What?" He lifted his arm and looked at his keytool. 

Caen joined in, burbling.

Davic glanced at his keytool, then met Bob's eyes. "Caen's got the power for it."

"No," Bob said. "It could kill all three of you. You could be infected."

"If you've got a better idea, I'm listening," Davic answered, easing Wayne to the floor. 

"I can call the Web Riders," Bob said. "They can keep an eye on him until Dot gets here."

"I guess they could watch him delete as well as you or I can," Davic agreed, settling down beside Wayne. He looked up at Bob. "Are you going to give me his icon or do I have to arm-wrestle you for it?"

"Let me do it, then," Bob said. "I—"

"—know this virus a lot better than I do, and you can talk to those Webheads out there without sending pixels to your grandmother," Davic finished. "Plus I'm bigger than you are, and Caen can prop me up longer than Glitch can hold your code together." He took his icon off and regarded it for a long moment. He closed his fingers around his icon and held out his other hand. "Give me his icon before I change my mind, city sprite."

Bob met Davic's eyes, then slowly laid Wayne's icon in Davic's open palm. "Have you done this before?"

"Not since the Academy," Davic answered. "Do me a favor and shut up." He addressed Caen. "Ready?"

Caen beeped, and lifted into the air, hanging motionless between Davic's open hands.

"Right," Davic murmured. "Go."

Caen clicked, then whirred. It delicately extended one end of itself until it just touched Davic's icon. Davic took a deep breath as his icon rose slowly upright, then began to spin. Caen's other end reached out. Davic grunted as Caen touched Wayne's flickering icon. Caen sparked, then abruptly glowed white as the icons at its ends began to close the distance between them, pushing Caen into an ever-shortening cylinder. 

Bob closed his eyes and turned away as the glow flared to a sudden burst of light.

The light died away as quickly as it had come, and something clanked on the floor. Bob blinked, and turned back to Davic and Wayne.

Davic had both hands on the floor and his head down, gasping.

"How do you feel?" Bob asked tentatively.

"About the same way I felt the last time I had to file-share someone," Davic answered. "My head hurts, my ears are ringing, I'm seeing spots, and it's a good thing I haven't had anything to eat lately." 

"Oh," Wayne groaned. He stirred, and put one hand to his head. "What happened?" He shaded his eyes with one hand and blinked at Bob.

"The infection made you burn out your processing algorithms, Wayne," Bob explained. "Davic's file sharing with you."

"Davic?" Wayne peered at the Net Guardian. "Do I know you?"

"Sure you do, Doc. Guardian 467 of Tuscarora Circuit."

"467?" Wayne shook his head. "That can't be right. There are only 233 Guardian protocols in existence."

Bob and Davic exchanged a glance.

"The infection must have corrupted your memory, Doc," Davic said slowly.

"Why are you calling me Doc?"

"Because you're a doctor. You mean you've forgotten that, too?"

Wayne stared. "What are you talking about? I'm Wayne MacHewlett, Guardian 147, of Paganini System."

"Warning," the address system blared. "This sector will be opened to the Web in five nanoseconds."

"Come on," Bob said. "We'll have to sort this out on the way to the hub."

"Steady, lads," Captain Capacitor cautioned. "Make sure you have a clear shot."

Their pursuer closed on the pirate ship. Hands tightened on deck gun grips.

"_Saucy Mare, Saucy Mare,_ come in," Turbo's voice crackled on the ship's speakers. "This is Prime Guardian Turbo. Hold your fire, hold your fire. Calm down, Capacitor, I'm not here to arrest you."

"No Guardian would miss the chance to bring in the Crimson Binome," Captain Capacitor yelled back. 

"I've got bigger fish to fry, Capacitor," Turbo answered. "The outstanding warrants on you can wait."

"There's a first time for everything, I guess," Mouse said. 

"What is it you want, Guardian?" Captain Capacitor asked.

"The Mainframers told me I might find a couple of my friends out here. You know anything about that?"

"We're taking care of it, Turbo," Dot said firmly. 

"Want some help?" Turbo offered.

"Would it stop you if I said no?"

"No."

"Then you may as well come along," Dot sighed.


	15. Secondary Infection Chapter 15

"Let me get this straight," Wayne said as he jogged beside Bob. "We're going to the hub of a viral station, to try and rescue an infected renegade cadet who just happens to have been the source of the cure for an infection that nearly destroyed the entire Net?"

"You make it sound so random," Davic remarked sarcastically.

Wayne shook his head and laughed. "You guys must be Guardians. No sprite in his right mind would try a stunt like this."

"It keeps things interesting," Bob said.

"It certainly does," Wayne confirmed.

Glitch buzzed.

Wayne blinked. "I didn't understand that."

"The translation algorithms are part of the Guardian protocol, Doc," Davic reminded him. "You haven't had those for at least ten minutes."

"Glitch says Matrix is in a large control room at the end of this hall," Bob put in before Wayne could reply. 

Glitch beeped and clicked some more.

"Only one door…Some suspicious power fluctuations…Matrix is the only sprite in there. No Megabyte." Bob grimaced. 

"Sounds like a trap," Wayne observed.

"It _is_ a trap," Davic said sourly. "What I want to know is where our backup is."

"Dot will be here," Bob said firmly. "You two stay here. I'll go get Matrix."

"Like crashes I will," Davic shot back. "The Doc can stay behind if he wants, but I'm going in to save your ASCII after you spring the trap on yourself."

"I'm coming with you," Wayne said firmly. "You say that I gave up the Guardian protocol minutes ago. Maybe that's true, but I don't remember those minutes, so for me they never happened." He lifted his chin and challenged Bob with his eyes. "As far as I know I'm a Guardian, and being a Guardian is more than just a protocol."

"Have you two forgotten that you're file-sharing?" Bob demanded. "One overload and—"

"—we're deleted," Davic finished. "Believe me, Bob, I know. But if you go in there and get into trouble, we're going to have to come after you and your cadet. Not to mention we still don't know where our friendly neighborhood Trojan Horse virus is, or whose face he might be wearing. He might be the one in that room, instead of that infected cadet. Our chances are better if we all go in together."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Bob said dryly. "Will you at least let me go in first?"

"Sure," Davic grinned. "You're the one with a girlfriend to impress." He swung one arm in a melodramatic feint. "Leading the charge to rescue her poor infected brother. She'll love that story."

Bob rolled his eyes as Wayne looked from one Guardian to another and lifted his eyebrows questioningly. 

Bob consulted Glitch. "Glitch, schematic." 

Glitch beeped, and projected an image for the three sprites.

"Huh," Davic said. "I always did prefer circular rooms. No corners to get backed into."

"Matrix is here," Bob said briskly, pointing to the center of the projected room. "I'll go to the right and circle around to him. Davic, you take care of this power source, whatever it is. Wayne, you keep our escape route open."

Davic nodded. "Got it." 

Bob sighed, and his face set. "Let's do it."

The door opened easily. Bob went right, Davic ran toward the live console on the left, and Wayne snatched a chair and shoved it into the doorway, preventing the door from closing behind them. That much went according to Bob's sketchy plan.

Nothing else did.

Just as Bob reached the central console and Matrix, the grey-faced sprite sat bolt upright with his gun in his hand. His right eye buzzed and glowed red as he leveled his gun on Bob.

"Matrix, it's me! Bob!" 

Matrix expressionlessly pulled the trigger, and Bob leaped aside as the round slammed into the wall behind him.

"Matrix, _what are you doing_?"

"Somehow, I don't think he's feeling quite himself, Bob!" Davic yelled from behind the console.

Matrix turned around fast, and three quick shots tore through the console, wall, and a patch of floor where Davic had been an instant before.

A vidwindow appeared as Matrix targeted again, and explosive rounds chased Davic halfway around the room.

"Ah, Bob," Megabyte purred from the vidwindow screen. "I trust you are enjoying the little party I arranged for you. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there to enjoy the fun, but I have pressing business elsewhere now that you and your annoying little friends are finally out of my way."

Matrix's targeting icon found Bob, and the Guardian leaped sideways. "Glitch! Shield!"

Two more shots ricocheted off Glitch's expanded round face. One of them shattered the vidwindow, and the other bounced back toward Matrix.

"No!" Bob yelled. 

The shot whistled past Matrix's ear, and tore a hole in the wall behind him. The sprite ignored it and lined up for another shot.

Another vidwindow appeared. "I had my scientists perform a few upgrades on your protégé. He's quite the destructive one, isn't he?" Megabyte went on. "Far be it from me to interfere with his Guardian training. You'll notice that I left him and his favorite toy fully charged for target practice."

"He's slave-disked!" Wayne cried from the dubious safety of the doorway. 

"You should have deleted that virus a long time ago, Bob!" Davic yelled over the sound of Matrix's gun. 

"I'll draw his fire, you disarm him!" Bob cried. "Wayne, get out of here!" 

Matrix focused on Bob, and Davic circled around behind the infected sprite. Caen glowed in its Guardian's left hand.

Matrix turned, and his right eye clicked as it tracked Davic. Matrix's right arm suddenly shot out from his side and fired at Bob, while the sprite's glowing red eye sent a targeting icon toward Davic.

Wayne scrambled across the room. The former Guardian's eyes were flickering from purple to green.

Caen shrieked, and Matrix fired as Davic dove beneath the central console. The shot tore through the power leads between Matrix's feet, and a Tear exploded into life, hanging an arm's length from Matrix's face.

Davic gasped as a shudder went through him, and his face flickered to near-transparency for an instant. He glanced at his keytool. "Hold him, Caen, hold him! Bob, Wayne's going green-eyed on us!"

"How I regret losing this opportunity," Megabyte mused from his cracked vidwindow. "I do wish I could see the expression on your face right now. Or perhaps hear your cries as the station explodes. Yes, that would be a sound to rock me to sleep at night."

"Bob, he's rigged the place!" Davic cried as he scrabbled his way out from under the console. "We've got to get out of here!"

"Not without Matrix!" Bob answered. "You take Wayne and go! I'll be right behind you!"

"Yes, it must be such a dilemma for you, Bob," Megabyte chuckled. "Do you leave the belligerent boy behind, or do you risk your life in a vain attempt to save him? No matter. Herr Doktor assures me that the destruction of something as large as this station will create shock waves strong enough to delete everything within half a second of here."

"Bob?" The voice came from Glitch's screen even as it blocked another incoming shot. "Bob? Come in, Bob!"

"Dot?" Bob asked. "Dot! Get away from the station. Get back into the Net, and take the Web Riders with you, now!!"

"Bob, what's happening?" Turbo's voice came onto the comm link.

Wayne dove under the console and somersaulted across the floor to Davic. He was flickering from head to toe. "I need to borrow this for a nano," he told Davic as he snatched Caen out of Davic's hand. Wayne's eyes shone bright green in his dimming face. Caen squealed, and a spark leaped under Wayne's fingers. "Save your energy, Ral!" Wayne told the keytool sharply.

Caen buzzed angrily.

Matrix whirled on the sparking console, and fired four shots in quick succession.

"Ral! Portal!" Wayne whipped Caen into the air like a discus, and it spun across the room, passing Matrix's shoulder and landing on the Tear behind him. The Tear stabilized.

Wayne let out a whoop and ran straight at Matrix. A bright red targeting icon formed on Wayne's chest just as Wayne hit Matrix. The two of them toppled head over heels into the Portal, and vanished.

"Wayne!" Bob yelled.

"We've got what we came for, Bob, let's go!" Davic ran across the room, grabbed Bob's elbow, and they both leaped into the Portal.


	16. Secondary Infection Chapter 16

There was a wrestling match underway when Bob and Davic fell out of the Portal onto the deck of the _Saucy Mare II_. Davic fell on top of two binomes struggling to pin Matrix's legs. Bob landed with both kneepads in Wayne's back. Wayne gasped and fell across Matrix's chest.

Bob grabbed Matrix's waving gun hand and threw it to the deck with all of his weight behind it. Matrix's fingers clenched, and his gun went off. The shot screamed across the deck and splintered a significant section of the railing. 

"Copland! Containment field!" Turbo's command was sharp. The Prime Guardian sprinted to the deck ladder and slid down even as Copland threw out its glowing red strands.

The restraint field wrapped itself around Matrix's arm from wrist to elbow, and twined its way up Bob's silver gauntlets. Matrix thrashed, and his gun went off again, this time blowing up a bucket on the deck in a shower of potato peels.

"We're gonna need something stronger than that, Turbo!" Davic yelled as he dodged a kick that tossed a crewman into a gun mount. The Net Guardian flickered and faded, and his eyes shaded from crimson to green and back again.

"Davic!" Bob cried. "Get out of here, go recharge before Caen offlines!"

"Surfr!" Dot was handling several different vidwindows at once. "Let him go! Get out of the Web!" She stretched up on tiptoe to look over the vidwindow. "Bob, be _careful!"_ she cried in an agonized tone.

Matrix heaved, and his free hand threw Wayne off his chest. Still blank-faced, the slaved sprite reached toward his captive hand.

"Oh, no," Bob tugged at the restraint field, then gave up and put a foot against Matrix's chest. "I could use a little help here!" he shouted.

"Don't worry, Bob," AndrAIa was suddenly there, her face grease-smudged and tense. She touched Matrix's bare arm with two fingers.

Matrix's eyes rolled back into his head, and he went limp.

Davic rolled off of Matrix, panting. He blinked at AndrAIa. "Has anyone…ever told you you're a real knockout?" he asked hoarsely.

AndrAIa smiled.

"Copland! Release field!" Turbo sprinted up the deck. "Bob, situation!"

Bob ignored the Prime Guardian. "Captain! Get out of the Web! Now!" He sat back on his heels, threw his head back, and chittered out a trill that ululated up and down the scale with an unmistakable urgency.

Websong came back, high and complex.

"Mr. Andrews! Divert all power to the Portal Generator!" Captain Capacitor roared.

"It's an unmapped address, captain!" the helmsman cried back. "There might not be a system—"

"We haven't time, Mr. Andrews! The Portal! Now!" Captain Capacitor had drawn his sword.

"Ray, get back here!" Mouse screeched at one of Dot's vidwindows. "That station's going to blow! 

"Somebody get Caen to a recharge!" Bob commanded, dragging Davic to his feet. "We've got to get Davic and Wayne to the galley!"

The Websong layered into wailing chords punctuated by feedback.

"Brace yourselves for emergency download!" Captain Capacitor's voice cut momentarily through the din.

The ship's lights went out and her engines died as her Portal Generator drew in every amp in the ship. The Portal opened barely a ship's length ahead of the bowsprit, and the ship thundered in blind. She was followed by hundreds of straining bodies, before the shock wave from the exploding station shattered the Portal, along with everything else in its path.

Silence. The temperature in the darkened ship dropped noticeably. For a long, frozen moment, no one aboard moved. Then the wail of a stray Web creature penetrated the thick shields, and there were sighs as everyone let out a held breath. The lights came on, dimmed, then brightened again.

"Are we…still processing?" Mr. Christopher poked his head out from under the wing of Turbo's ship.

"It would seem so, my lad," Captain Capacitor answered softly. "Mr. Andrews, status."

The helmsman relaxed his grip on the wheel. Several vidwindows opened in front of him. "All systems reporting in, sir," he replied. "Primary generator near redline."

"I'll get right on it, Captain," AndrAIa promised. She rose from Matrix's side and went below.

"The Web Riders seem to be okay," Dot reported. "They're sorting themselves back into their pods."

"Where's Ray?" Mouse demanded, watching the scanners.

"I don't see him, Mouse," Dot answered soberly. "He was a long way out. He might have gone into another system."

Mouse watched the scanners, her jaw working.

"What happened out there, Bob?" Turbo asked. He bent, and lifted Wayne to his feet. He looked at Davic, who was leaning heavily on Bob.

"Doc's got the infection," Davic mumbled. He raised his head long enough to look Turbo in the eyes. "Went into a game. Craziest infection I've ever seen. Kidnapped." He shuddered as his body nearly disappeared, then flickered back into dim existence. "Caen can't hold us both. Overload." His eyes went from crimson to green again, and he shook his head.

"They're file-sharing, Turbo. I'll explain once we get Caen recharged," Bob said hurriedly. He turned and half-dragged Davic toward the hatchway.

"I help," a hoarse female voice said. Princess Bula lifted Davic and settled him into the crook of her arm like a baby. Then she did the same to Wayne.

"Thank you, Princess," Bob said gratefully. "Davic and Wayne both need to eat. Take them down to the galley and give them as much food as they can hold."

"No problem. I good cook." Bula stumped off with her burden.

"Now," Turbo said, "for you, Caen." He bent and lifted the erratically-pulsing keytool off the deck where it had fallen. He carried it back to his ship and opened the canopy. "Recharge pad," he told the ship.

Bob knelt beside Matrix's motionless form. "Glitch. Scan."

It was a moment before Glitch beeped, and its processing hum was lower than usual.

"I know, old friend. You're next on the recharge pad," Bob soothed his drained keytool. He watched the data flow across Glitch's screen.

"How is he?" Dot asked, coming up beside Bob.

Bob looked up at her, and his face was exhausted and sad. "Not good," he replied. He pushed Matrix's dark hair away from his right temple, revealing a glossy black plate. "Megabyte used Matrix's brainware to get access to his action codes. If he'd gone through the icon I could use my icon as a template—" he broke off as Dot's face clouded with confusion. "I can't do this, Dot. It's beyond my abilities."

Dot's face crumbled, and she dropped to her knees beside Bob.

"It's not beyond Wayne, though," Turbo said.

Bob put his arm around Dot's shoulders and looked up at Turbo. "Turbo—"

"Sir!" a crewman interrupted. "We have a problem."

"What? Show me," Captain Capacitor ordered.

A vidwindow opened in front of the captain. Turbo tied into the transmission and opened a second vidwindow.

There were murmurs as the image on the screens registered with the crew. The sprite who hovered in front of the ship certainly did not appear threatening. She was dressed in a long skirt and a top tied in the middle, along with an assortment of jewelry. Her gold hair was loose over her shoulders, and her deep blue eyes were serene. She rested one hand on the _Saucy Mare II's_ armored bowsprit, as if her touch alone could restrain the powerful ship. The delicate, ethereal image was broken by the glowing keytool buzzing on the sprite's left wrist, and the yellow-and-black Guardian icon holding her shirt closed.

Back to full strength, Caen zipped off into the hold, doubtless headed for Davic.

"I am Aria, Guardian of this LAN," the hovering sprite stated in a rich musical voice. "Who are you, and why have you brought Web creatures to my domain?"

An undefinable expression flitted across Turbo's face, and his jaw tightened. 

"I am the Crimson Binome, Captain of the _Saucy Mare_, and the Web Riders are under my protection," Captain Capacitor declared.

Websong thrummed through the ship's plating, and the LAN Guardian clapped both hands to her pointed ears. "If they are your friends, then kindly ask them to moderate their volume!" she shouted.

Bob continued to hold Dot, but lifted his chin and wailed out a three-note phrase punctuated by sharp clicks. The Websong hushed.

"Will that do, my lady?" Captain Capacitor asked courteously.

"It will," she replied. "Why have you come here, Captain Gavin Capacitor? If it's plunder you seek, I warn you that it will come at a high price."

"I see my reputation has preceded me," Captain Capacitor answered. "And I am sure you would be a fine adversary in battle."

"Relax, Aria," Turbo interrupted. "I'm keeping an eye on the captain."

Aria smiled at him. "Welcome, my Prime."

"Thank you, Aria," Turbo said with careful formality.

"Has the notorious Crimson Binome surrendered to you, then?" Aria asked. 

"I surrender to no one!" Captain Capacitor roared, drawing his sword.

"Stand down, Capacitor," Turbo ordered. His voice was not loud, but it carried from stem to stern, and brooked no argument. "Put up your sword, Gavin," the Prime Guardian said.

The Crimson Binome locked eyes with the Guardian on the deck. After a long, breathless moment, the pirate sheathed his sword.

Turbo turned back to the vidwindow. "Aria, we've got trouble. Is there someplace the ship can tie up for repairs while we talk?"

Aria smiled again. "With you, there is always trouble, my Prime," she said. There was laughter in her voice. "If you cannot find any, you go out and make some."

Turbo's lips tugged into a half-smile even as his cheeks reddened. "Guess I can't go against my programming," he said ruefully.

Aria chuckled. "Come to the router, then, and we will talk of this new trouble of yours."

Mr. Christopher, now perched on a crate beside Turbo's ship, leaned over to the penguin sitting beside him and murmured, "I think we're missing something here."

The penguin nodded vigorously.


	17. Secondary Infection Chapter 17

"More?" Princess Bula hovered, ladle at the ready.

"No, thank you," Wayne said politely.

"No more for me, either," Davic added hurriedly as the princess turned toward him. "I think I've just eaten more in half a microsecond than I usually eat in a decacycle."

"Time for bed, then," Bula said approvingly. "Good food, good bunk, good sprite!" She put one hand on Davic's head and ruffled his hair in what was probably meant to be gentle affection. "I show you good beds. Sleep tight!" She led the way to a pair of sprite-sized bunks tucked into an odd corner formed by the structural beams that carried the ship's engines. She picked Davic up and put him in the top bunk, then tucked them both in and sidled off down the narrow passageways.

They lay there in silence for a nano, then Davic said softly, "Is she gone?"

"I think so."

"Good," Davic said. "If she'd come back to read us a bedtime story I think I'd have had to Portal into a Game or something."

"Can Caen do that?"

"What, 'port into a Game? No." Fabric rustled as Davic shifted. 

There was a muffled beeping.

"Oh, sorry, buddy." There was more rustling, then a dim glow. 

The beeping grew louder and more strident.

"OK, suit yourself. I'm going to take some downtime while I can get it," Davic said.

Caen clicked, then zipped off toward the hatch.

"Is something wrong?" Wayne asked.

"Hm? No. Caen was just feeling a little hemmed in. It _really_ doesn't like tight spaces."

"Your keytool has claustrophobia?"

"Yeah," Davic replied. He was silent for a moment, then said, "You were the one who convinced Caen to stay with the Collective, you know."

"I was?"

"Mm," Davic confirmed. "I was a couple minutes out of the Academy. Still too dumb to know when I was in over my head. A Web virus got onto my circuit and started taking things apart." Davic took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "To make a long story short, the virus filelocked Caen. I ended up in the Ward, and you spent about three decacycles taking that filelock apart bit by bit."

"I don't remember any of that," Wayne murmured. "No wonder Caen shocked me when I grabbed it."

"That was probably the most random thing I've ever seen you do," Davic commented. "If Caen had been any stronger, it'd have knocked you cold."

"I thought it was Ral," Wayne said. 

"Your keytool?"

"Yes." Wayne paused. "Do you know what happened? Why I left the Collective?"

"No idea," Davic replied. "It was before my time, and no one could get you to talk about it. Turbo probably knows."

"That was him out there on the deck, wasn't it? I didn't get too good a look at him."

"Yeah, that's our Prime."

"_What?_ He's the _Prime?_" 

"For the past nine minutes," Davic confirmed. 

"Huh," Wayne said. When he spoke again his tone was sad. "I remember Turbo as the guy who mouthed off in class and crashed every time he had to fly Old Gertie."

"You're kidding. The best close-formation pilot in the Collective crashed the simulator?"

"He did it on purpose. He always said it was the only thing he needed to learn how to do."

"I'll bet he spent a lot of time polishing Gertie's bumpers, then."

"He did. I guess he finally learned something from it, though." Wayne sighed. "I remember that, but I can't remember what happened between then and now." 

"You will," Davic reassured him. "Once we get your memory tree back together, you'll be the Doc again."

"I suppose I will," Wayne answered. He lay awake, staring at the bottom of Davic's bunk, long after the Net Guardian had fallen asleep.

The _Saucy Mare II's_ Web shields dropped with mechanical grace, stowing themselves without a wasted motion. Snatches of Websong clicked and sighed through the soft-shaded sky.

Bob and Dot stood on the poop deck, watching the Web creatures undulate slowly toward the router on the horizon.

"What are they saying?" Dot's face and voice were pensive.

"It's mostly positional data," Bob answered. He lifted his head and listened for a moment as a snippet of conversation rose and fell. "Someone just said he hasn't seen a real sky since he got lost."

"Is that how it is for them?" Dot asked. "They just get lost?"

"Usually," Bob confirmed. "No one knows why, but every now and then a Web connection resets. If there's a packet in transit when that happens, the packet loses its destination directory."

"Leaving everyone aboard the packet stranded," Dot murmured. She shivered.

"Yes," Bob said soberly. "The Web Riders rescue as many sprites as they can, but most of the time they can't get there before the packet degrades."

"I'm glad they found you in time," Dot said faintly. She shivered again. "Is it just me, or is it cold out here?"

"It's cold," Bob answered. "This LAN processes at a lower speed than Mainframe."

"So it's warmer in the Supercomputer?"

"Why do you think I always wear long sleeves?"

"Wayne."

Wayne's eyes popped open, and he blinked in the dimness of the hold.

"Wayne, wake up. We're here, and we need to talk." Turbo let himself lean against the opposite wall. "We're having a debriefing session in the watch tower."

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Wayne mumbled. He stretched, then sat up. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About two microseconds."

Wayne grunted. "Really? A whole two microseconds? It feels like it was only two nanos." He rubbed his back. "User, I'm stiff."

"It happens when you get old," Turbo said ruefully.

Wayne looked up. "How old are you, Turbo?"

Turbo shrugged in the shadows. "Riding herd on the Collective takes it out of a sprite. Sometimes I feel like I've been around since the First Boot."

"Davic said you're the Prime."

"Yes, I am." Turbo folded his arms. "Davic said you couldn't remember why you left the Collective."

"He said you might know."

"Yeah, I do. You sure you want to hear it? You'll remember for yourself, soon as we get your memory tree reorganized."

"I'm not sure I want that, Turbo." Wayne bent, and put his elbows on his knees, wincing a little as his back tightened. He ran his hand from the back of his neck over his head. "This 'Doc' that Davic talks about—I don't recognize him at all. He abandoned his protocol long ago—what sort of Guardian does that?"

"A Guardian who almost deleted himself trying to reconfigure an oscillating BIOS one byte at a time." Turbo answered.

Wayne stared at Turbo, his eyes wide in the darkness. "Paganini?"

"Gone. We almost lost you with it."

Wayne buried his face in his hands.

Turbo dropped to his haunches and put one hand on Wayne's shoulder. "Listen, Wayne—"

"What happened to Ral?" Wayne bit out.

Turbo lowered his hand, and his head. "When you purged your protocol, Ral 'ported outsystem. No one knows where it went."

Copland buzzed softly.

"The keytools haven't heard from Ral in minutes," Turbo translated.

"I lost my system," Wayne murmured. "I lost my system." He took a deep, shuddering breath, then looked up at Turbo. "If I went through training again, would you graduate me?"

"You mean would I risk putting lives into your hands again? I do that every cycle, Wayne."

"But a doctor only handles one patient at a time," Wayne countered. "It's not the same thing."

"Wanna bet?" Turbo asked softly. "You don't know what you're capable of, Wayne. There's an epidemic out there, and no Guardian is going stop it. I let you come out here because I knew if anyone could find the cure for this thing, Doc Wayne could."

"User, Turbo, _I have the infection!"_

"So does most of the Net."

Wayne's eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me, Turbo?"

"Paganini's fifteen minutes gone, Wayne," Turbo said bluntly. "You don't feel that because the infection's messing with your head, but for the rest of us, it's long-archived history. I feel for you, and if I was just your friend I'd sit here and mope with you the same way I did the first time around, but I haven't got time for that now. We're marooned in this system until the Web's passable again—that could be anything from microseconds to decacycles, according to the Web Riders. Meanwhile, there's an epidemic running out of control over the entire Net, and the only lead we have on how to stop it is locked up in a cadet that we have to keep unconscious because he's been slaved to a Trojan Horse virus." Turbo rose. "Things aren't as simple as they were fifteen minutes ago, Wayne. We aren't kids playing against sims anymore. This is real, and this is the only chance we get. I don't need another Guardian. I need the sprite who can save us." 


	18. Secondary Infection Chapter 18

Aria's watch station in the router was a circular tower with enormous windows and no interior walls. The design allowed the Guardian to monitor all the traffic in the router simply by glancing out her windows. It also had the happy side effect of creating a feeling of light and air in what was in truth very little space. Aria had added a dropped balcony to the rim of the tower room, and arranged potted plants both inside and outside for a feeling of openness. All visual illusions aside, however, the room was filled to capacity.

Bob, Dot, Captain Capacitor, Mr. Christopher, Davic, Wayne, Mouse, Turbo, one of the Web Riders, and Aria were all crowded into the tower room, sitting on the overstuffed circular sofa that ran around the edges of the room. Aria, declaring that she rarely entertained guests, had insisted on offering everyone refreshments and the use of her shower before discussing business.

The envoy from the Web Riders stretched what might have once been a hand past Mr. Christopher to grab the hor's doevre tray. He (she? It was impossible to tell what gender the Web Rider might once have been, and no one had yet worked up the courage to ask) burbled a phrase and popped a custard-filled pastry into his mouth.

"He says you're a wonderful cook," Bob translated.

Aria smiled at the Web Rider, ignoring the grotesque face. "Thank you, noble Rider. It is a delight to cook for someone who enjoys good food." Her eyes strayed to Turbo.

Turbo's cheeks turned faintly pink, and he shot Aria a dirty look. "Let's get started," he said gruffly. "Now, the Web Riders say we're stuck here for at least a couple of cycles, until the Web clears."

"Such a dreadful fate," Aria said archly.

"Now is not the time, Aria," Turbo answered, his tone even. "We've got two cycles to plan our next move, and that's what I plan to do." He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "As I see it, we have two problems. One, we've got an epidemic in the Net. Two, there's a Trojan Horse virus loose in the Web."

Bob, who had been translating for the Web Rider in an undertone, spoke up. "There's something else, Turbo. We have to cure the Web Riders."

Turbo's brows lowered. "What?"

"Bob made a deal with Web-face and his buddies," Davic put in. "He promised them he'd give them the program Glitch used to repair his Web degradation."

Turbo turned to Bob, his face a study in control. "You promised to give away Guardian codes?"

"It's not part of the Guardian protocol, Turbo," Bob defended. "Glitch created it itself."

"Glitch is carrying part of your code, a significant amount of which is your Guardian protocol," Turbo growled. "You had no right to bargain with that."

"Would you rather Davic and I had taken on Megabyte alone?" Bob demanded. "You saw what we were up against, Turbo. We nearly lost Wayne and Matrix even with the Web Riders' help."

Glitch whirred and clicked, and Caen joined in.

"They have a point, my Prime," Aria said, smiling gently. "The program is Glitch's to keep or to give."

"But Guardian codes are strictly proprietary," Turbo said stubbornly. "If our codes become general knowledge, we lose our advantage against viruses."

"The Turbo I know would say we'll have to come up with new codes, then," Wayne put in quietly. He met his old friend's eyes. "He would have come after me with everything he could find, and to crashes with the regulations."

"Ya'll are making this a lot harder than it has to be," Mouse drawled. She lounged back on the sofa cushions. "Just let me see the program before you turn it over to the Web Riders, and I'll make sure there's no trace of our boy Bob or his precious protocol in it."

Turbo gave her a withering look. "And let you have access to our secrets? I don't think so."

"How do you know I don't already have them, sugar?" Mouse replied sweetly.

A vidwindow popped open, interrupting the commentary. "Guardian Aria!" a frightened one binome cried. "We've got a Game—oh, I'm sorry." The binome looked around at the sprites in the room. "I didn't know you had guests."

"It's no trouble, Joshua," Aria reassured him. "We—"

"Aria!" Another vidwindow popped open. "There's a Game dropping over the Principle Office!"

"Sounds like a networked Game," Davic said. Caen extended itself in his hands, leaving the two icons it supported in a small ring around its balance point.

"Let's do it," Bob said. He exchanged a few words with the Web Rider. "Aria, is it all right if he stays here?"

"Of course. Tell him to help himself to anything he likes in the kitchen."

Bob nodded. "We should get going. This system processes slower than Mainframe, but those Games are dropping."

"I'm coming with you," Wayne said hurriedly.

"No, you're not," Turbo contradicted.

"Perhaps you should discuss the matter on the way to the battle, lads," Captain Capacitor suggested. "Time and Games wait for no sprite."

"He's right, you know," Wayne grinned. He got up and started down the stairs winding through the floor of the room. "Race you." He disappeared down the stairs.

Turbo rose. "Did any of you happen to see what color his eyes were?"

"Purple. That wasn't the infection," Davic observed.

"That's what I was afraid of."

The four Guardians Portaled in right under the dropping Game. Davic glanced around at the deserted streets. "No sign of him," he noted.

"Wayne will be in the Game," Turbo said sourly. "He'll probably head for the other drop point, since it's closer and he's on a zipboard."

"Captain Capacitor _really_ wasn't happy about that," Bob chuckled. 

"Perhaps being the victim of a theft, however minor, will teach the captain the error of his ways," Aria said primly.

"He's already learned the error of his ways," Bob laughed. "He's discovered that it's much more profitable to trade honestly. He'd only go back to piracy if someone paid him to." 

Wayne taxed his "borrowed" zipboard, his eyes on the purple cube dropping out of the softly pink sky above the LAN systems. He skimmed above the roofs of one city, then dropped dangerously close to the data sea that separated the systems from each other. 

"Mind if I join you?" someone asked casually.

Wayne turned, and his eyebrows shot up. "What are you doing here?"

Mouse shrugged. "I downloaded ReBoot codes a long time ago, but I've never had a chance to try them out."

"So you've never been into a Game?" Wayne crouched a little lower on his zipboard, and winced as his back protested.

"No." Mouse kept pace with Wayne effortlessly. "But I figured you would show me the ropes."

Wayne's jaw tightened. "You might have been better off asking Turbo to do that. I'm not a Guardian anymore."

"Turbo's a little picky about the rules, in case you haven't noticed," Mouse replied. She looked at Wayne as the two of them skimmed above the glowing sea. "Why are you going into the Game, Sugar?"

"Being a Guardian isn't just a protocol," Wayne answered. 

"Huh," Mouse murmured. "So you want to be a Guardian again?"

"I'm not sure what I want anymore," Wayne said moodily.

"So why go into a Game?" Mouse asked. 

Wayne sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I didn't actually purge all of my Guardian code fifteen minutes ago. Maybe the Game compulsion is still there."

"Sounds like there's _something_ still there, at least," Mouse agreed.

The Game landed, and the four Guardians looked around. They were standing in a lovely green glade, complete with gnarled oak trees, a babbling brook, and singing birds. There was even a slender white deer nibbling the grass at the edge of the forest.

Aria let out a small shriek of delight. Turbo groaned.

"I take it you two know this Game?" Davic asked.

"Know it?" Aria took a few light steps, and whirled like a dancer. Her skirts swished in the air, and she seemed to lift just slightly off the ground. "This is where it all began."

"This must be an upgraded version," Turbo observed coolly. "The scenery looks 16-bit."

"But it is still the Wilds," Aria almost sang. "My first home. And—" she spun across the grass and brushed Turbo's cheek with her fingertips, "—where I first met my Prime."

Bob and Davic exchanged a look. "Is either of you going to tell us what's going on, or should we leave you two here to reminisce while we deal with the User?" Davic asked.

"Users," Turbo corrected. "There are two groups of them." He searched the crystal-blue sky for a long moment, then continued. "This is Heroes' Legacy. Our objective is to either stop the Users from claiming the Heroes' Legacy, or to claim it ourselves."

"So we just have to find whatever this Hero thing is before the Users do," Davic concluded. "That doesn't sound too bad."

"It's not that simple," Turbo replied.

"I knew you would say that." Bob said wryly.

"What's the catch?" Davic asked.

"The Heroes' Legacy is not a thing to be found," Aria sang in a rich contralto. "It is a thing to be searched for." She hummed, and danced right up to the white deer, which raised its head and regarded the sprite with calm brown eyes.

"What she means is that we have to collect clues and testimony from Game sprites all over the Game world, in order to figure out where we have to be, and when, to win the Game," Turbo said dryly. "We really should ReBoot and get moving." He tapped his icon. "ReBoot," he said in a resigned tone.

Aria tapped her icon, and ReBooted between one step and the next.

Davic whistled, and looked Aria up and down. "Not bad," he observed.

Aria laughed, and danced across the glade. She now wore a brightly-colored silk dress, tied at the waist with a belt of flashing metal coins and complemented by a silk scarf tied in her hair. Tiny bells braided into her hair rang as she moved, and there was a wooden flute tucked under her belt. She stopped in front of Davic and lifted her chin, challenging him with her bright blue eyes. "I was created this way," she told him, suddenly solemn. "I am an Elven Siren, raised by the gypsies of this Wild. I can lead any traveler astray with a simple tune, or turn back an army with a dance. Do you dare challenge me?"

"Uh—" Davic's cheeks turned bright red. 

Caen clicked.

Bob lifted an eyebrow at Aria, and gave Davic a hard elbow in the ribs.

Davic blinked, and shook his head. "User, don't do that," he said to the lovely sprite in front of him. "I'm on your side, remember?" 

Caen chattered.

"You should talk," Davic reproached it. "You're the one who went chasing after—"

"Cut it out, all of you," Turbo ordered. He settled a dented helmet onto his head and shook his shoulders under the weight of the chain mail the Game had dressed him in. "We've got work to do."

"Right, right," Davic tapped his icon. "ReBoot!"

"No!" Bob and Turbo cried in unison.

Caen squealed and chattered, glowing bright blue. The icons embedded in its length sprang apart for an instant, spinning to the very tips of the noisily buzzing keytool.

Copland, Glitch, and Aria's keytool jumped away from their Guardians and flew straight into the ball of light that Caen had become. There was a great deal of beeping and several small explosions before the light faded.

"What?" Davic asked. He looked down at himself. "What the…?"

"An ogre!" Aria cried. "A powerful beast, if not particularly intelligent." She chuckled, and caught her keytool as it zipped back to her. The keytool rattled and clicked.

"Hey!" Davic protested around a mouthful of fangs. 

"He is simply young and impetuous, Pavane," Aria reproached gently. 

"I haven't been young since I was 10," Davic declared truculently. He hefted the enormous club he now held in his left hand, and Caen stuttered out a noisy phrase before wrapping itself around his arm. "Oops," he said, abashed.

"Oops is right," Turbo said sternly as Copland settled itself onto his gauntleted left arm. "You just ReBooted Wayne, son."

"Let's hope he made it into the Game, then," Bob said. Glitch settled back onto Bob's arm with a satisfied chirp.

Caen clicked and beeped.

"That's a relief," Davic said. "What kind of character did he get?"

Caen whirred.

"Caen, _anything_ is better than an—an ogre, for User's sake."

Caen buzzed.

"Now that was hitting below the belt," Davic accused.

"You have to wonder, though," Bob teased. "Sometimes it seems like the Game knows a lot more about us than we think it does."

"Why don't we see what the Game thinks of you, then, city sprite?" Davic growled around his massive teeth.

"Why don't we?" Bob countered. He tapped his icon. "ReBoot!" He took a step back as the ReBoot finished.

"Ow!" Davic lifted one of his now-massive feet, and hopped around for a moment. "Watch where you're putting your feet, Bob!"

Bob's brow furrowed. "But I didn't—oh. Oh, boy." He twisted his neck as he tried to get a look at himself.

The Game had provided Bob with a bow, a quiver full of arrows, a brown leather vest with matching cap, and an extra set of legs. Bob wheeled, his hooves digging into the soft turf. "This is a new experience," Bob remarked as he surveyed his dark blue horsehide. A long tail of silver hairs flicked itself across Bob's flanks, and he jumped forward, startled. "Hey! That felt…pretty good actually." He twisted to look over his shoulder, and switched his tail again.

Copland whirred.

"Let's get moving," Turbo said. "There's a village in that direction."

"Raven's Hame," Aria supplied. She took Turbo's arm and tugged him toward a tiny path through the underbrush. "A quiet and poor little hamlet." She looked up at Davic, then to Bob. "It might be best if you stayed here in the Wild. The villagers will flee the appearance of an ogre, and centaurs are not welcome in this region."

"I can't imagine why," Davic said sarcastically. He sat down and stretched thick legs in front of him. "Bring us something to eat when you come back, will you? For some reason I'm hungry enough that even you guys are starting to look good."

"That's reassuring," Bob commented, taking a few steps back. 

"It is the nature of ogres," Aria explained. "They are always hungry, and they will eat anything that crosses their path."

"Really?" Davic reached toward the white deer still grazing at the edge of the forest. "I wonder what this tastes like." He caught the deer by one hind leg and dragged it toward himself.

"No!" Turbo cried, lifting one hand.

The deer slipped through Davic's fingers and sprang away into the dark forest.

"Wonderful," Turbo growled. "Your appetite just lost us an advantage, Davic."

"Huh?" Davic, deprived of the deer, grabbed a convenient blackberry bush and tore it up by its roots. He shoved most of it into his mouth, and bit off its top. "What are you talking about?" he asked around his mouthful.

"The white hind is a guide," Aria explained. "If correctly approached, it can be persuaded to show a worthy soul the Path of Heroes."

"Oh," Davic said ruefully. "Sorry about that."

"Is there anything else we should know before you two go to the village?" Bob asked.

"Keep an eye out for the Users," Turbo said. "Try and follow them, if they show up. Don't attack them until we catch up with you—you'll be outnumbered."

"Does that matter?" Davic asked. "We're not exactly easy pickings, you know." He took another bite of the blackberry bush.

"The Users aren't either. Trust me," Turbo answered. "We won't be gone long." He let Aria lead him into the brush.

"You know, I'm starting to get _really_ curious about those two," Davic remarked.

"You're not the only one," Bob agreed. He chose a spot across the glade from Davic, scuffed it a bit with his hooves, then carefully lowered himself to the ground.

"You think they'll ever explain?"

Bob shrugged. "Aria might, if we asked her to."

"You go ahead," Davic said, stuffing the rest of the blackberry bush into his mouth. "I'm in enough trouble with Turbo for one cycle."


	19. Secondary Infection Chapter 19

Mouse held up one foreleg, examining the purple hoof on the end of it. "This is really weird," she commented. 

"You get used to it," Wayne answered. "Try to relax. It's easier to follow the Game character's instincts if you don't think about them too much." He switched his flaxen tail as he surveyed the valley below them. "Look, there's the User now." He pointed to a small cloud of dust rising from a ribbon of road on the valley floor.

"How can you tell that's the User?" Mouse asked, watching the dust cloud's slow progress.

"If that was Turbo, he'd already have sent Copland to put a restraining field on both of us," Wayne said in an acerbic tone. He folded his arms and scowled, tail swishing.

"What about the Game sprites?"

"They're right there," Wayne nodded at the far slope of the valley. "It looks like they're going to attack, and Game sprites don't usually attack their own kind."

Mouse took a few cautious steps, and came to stand beside Wayne. Her lighter frame looked almost delicate beside the ex-Guardian's stocky barrel. Mouse watched the Game sprites rush down the slopes for a moment, then asked, "So do we join in, or let the Game sprites handle it?"

"Let's see what happens to the Game sprites, and find out what we're up against."

Mouse gave Wayne a long look, her lavender eyes searching, then turned to look out over the valley. The two of them stood on the slope, switching their tails and watching. 

The User's party met the Game sprites just outside the tiny village huddled beside the dusty track. Yells and the _clang_ of steel on steel floated up to the pair of sprites above. The dust rose, obscuring the combatants.

"This may be a very short Game," Wayne observed.

All of a sudden, a series of bright sparks shot out from the dust cloud. The sounds of battle ceased, and a tight knot of limping figures emerged from the dust, headed for the village.

"Looks like it's going to last a little longer, Sugar," Mouse commented.

Wayne nodded. "There must be magic in this Game."

"Magic?"

"'A usually inexplicable set of abilities allowing the possessor to defy the normal parameters of possibility'," Wayne quoted. "Hazards of Known Games. First-level cadet course."

"So we're outgunned," Mouse concluded. 

"Not necessarily," Wayne answered. "Magicians usually aren't that good at hand-to-hand combat, and unless they've got some sort of magical shield capability, they're not very well protected from arrows, either. We just have to get past their warriors."

"And how do we do that?"

"They've lost some hit points fighting with the Game sprites. If we attack now, we'll catch them off-guard and weakened."

Mouse looked doubtfully from the Wayne to the village and back. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't there more of them than there are of us? As in five to two?"

"Aren't you the one who wanted to take a few risks?" Wayne started down the slope.

"Yeah, but I wasn't planning on taking every risk that came along," Mouse muttered as she followed.

If Wayne heard, he ignored her.

"AndrAIa! We need you!" Mr. Christopher careened into the power room, his glasses askew and thin hair tousled. "He's loose!"

"_What_?" AndrAIa asked. "He broke out of a _filelock_?" She slid off the massive main generator housing, and wiped her hands on an already-filthy rag tucked into her belt.

"The Captain says Megabyte must have put an escape algorithm into him. Hurry!" Mr. Christopher was almost jumping up and down in his agitation.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," AndrAIa answered.

The small cabin held no furniture except the built-in bunk and a three-legged stool, but it was more than filled by the struggle taking place inside it. Princess Bula held Matrix crushed against her chest, pinning his arms but leaving his feet free to kick at whatever was in range, including a hatless and swearing Captain Capacitor. The former pirate had unlimbered a vocabulary full of arcane curses and unintelligible threats that sounded all the worse for their incomprehensibility. Dot huddled against the far wall, sporting a rapidly-darkening bruise around one eye and clutching her stomach as she gasped for breath.

"By the Code, lass, get him under control!" Capacitor yelled as he spotted AndrAIa running down the corridor. He ducked as the stool flew over his head and crashed into the wall.

AndrAIa flew across the room in two long leaps, and tapped the side of Matrix's neck with the relatively clean nails of her left hand. Matrix turned and snapped his teeth at her, then his wild eyes rolled back into his head and he relaxed.

Bula dropped the still-twitching sprite onto the bunk. "He not so cute now," she observed, panting a little.

"He's always been a fighter," AndrAIa said sadly. She sat down on the bunk beside her childhood friend and rolled him gently onto his back, then stroked his cheek. "He won't stay paralyzed for long. We have to get him to a doctor. Now."

"Aye," Captain Capacitor agreed. He picked his hat up off the floor. "And since our hostess is a bit preoccupied, we will have to find a surgeon ourselves. Mr. Christopher!"

"Yes, Captain?" The first mate peeked carefully around the doorjamb from the corridor.

"Look alive, lad! Inform the crew that we will be going on a little outing. Break out the hand weapons."

"Ooh—fight! I go get ready," Bula announced. She pounded one fist into the other palm, and squeezed into the dark passage, heading for her bunk.

"You're not planning to kidnap a doctor, are you?" Dot asked hoarsely as she rose from her crouch. 

"Of course not, good lady!" Captain Capacitor exclaimed. "We are simply going to ensure that the best physician in this LAN understands how very serious the case is. I assure you, we will be the souls of discretion." He bowed with a flourish, then left.

"Some things never change," Dot murmured, laughing a little.

"And some things never stop changing," AndrAIa replied. She took Matrix's hand in hers, and folded the gray-skinned fingers around her palm.

Wayne picked up speed as he jogged down the valley wall toward the village where the User had gone. His wide, heavy hooves sank into the damp soil, but he wrenched them loose by main force, and moved up to a canter.

"Hey!" Mouse tripped over her own feet as she struggled to coordinate four legs instead of two. "Wait for your backup!"

Wayne dropped back to a walk that was stiff with impatience. "They might not stay long. We have to get there before they recharge."

"Honey, if you don't slow down, we're going to be the ones who need recharging." Mouse pulled up alongside of Wayne, and stumbled again as her left rear hoof got tangled up with the left front one.

"If you quit wasting energy fighting the Game character, you'll have plenty left to fight the User," Wayne retorted. "I told you, relax."

"It's kind of hard to relax when I'm trying to keep up with a Guardian trying to get himself deleted," Mouse shot back. 

"I'm trying to defeat the User," Wayne growled. He picked up the pace.

Mouse matched his gait. "Uh-uh, Sugar. If you were worried about the User, you'd have come up with a better plan than just charging in outnumbered." 

Wayne abruptly jumped to an extended trot, his legs reaching farther across the grass with every stride. "You don't know what we're dealing with. You've never been in a Game before, for User's sake."

"I don't have to know what _we're_ dealing with to have a pretty good idea what _you're_ dealing with," Mouse told him. She picked up a rolling canter without apparent effort.

"What, someone else playing with my head? Haven't I had enough of that already?" Wayne threw himself into a canter as the slope flattened out into the valley floor. "Did Turbo put you up to this?"

"He didn't have to," Mouse snapped. 

"Leave me alone!" Wayne took off at a full gallop, leaving Mouse sneezing and stumbling on the dusty road.


	20. Secondary Infection Chapter 20

Caen chittered.

"No kidding," Davic growled. He shifted the sapling he'd been chewing to the other side of his mouth as he walked. "What's he doing, trying to run off all the food that pirate stuffed down us?"

"He might be trying to outrun the User," Bob commented.

"Now that's a cheerful thought," Davic grumped.

Caen let out an earsplitting whistle, followed by a high-speed clatter.

"What? Not again," Davic groaned.

"What does it matter what color his eyes are?" Aria asked, her fine brow wrinkling.

"It's a sign of the infection I told you about," Turbo explained. "Wayne's got it."

"You did not tell me you were bringing an unknown virus into my LAN," Aria said sternly.

"We didn't exactly know we were coming, Aria," Turbo growled. "Besides, what would you have done? Thrown him out into the Web to delete?"

"'Sprites carrying or suspected of carrying an unidentified infection shall be placed under quarantine upon discovery of their condition.'" Aria quoted haughtily. "Regulations of the Guardian Collective, Section Six, Paragraph Two."

"Impressive memory," Turbo noted acidly. "Maybe you also remember Section Two. It's the one about 'Duties and Powers of the Prime Guardian'." 

"So you are invoking the privileges of your rank to protect a potential danger to my system?" Aria asked dangerously.

"Since you seem to want to follow regulations all of a sudden, yes."

"Excuse me," Bob interrupted. "But would one of you please explain why you keep insulting each other?"

"It is a long story," Aria sighed irritably.

"And it's none of your business," Turbo finished in a growl.

"It's our business if you two are too busy fighting with each other to notice the User," Bob pointed out. 

"Which is right up the road," Davic added. "Caen picked up the User two nanos ago."

"I will lure them to us," Aria announced. "You had best stop up your ears." She took her flute from her belt.

"Do as she says," Turbo commanded. "Copland!" 

Copland squawked out a few phrases.

"_Later_, Copland." 

Copland produced a sound that suspiciously resembled a long-suffering sigh, then transformed itself into a pair of thick earmuffs.

Glitch burbled, and followed suit.

"Are you planning on changing form anytime soon?" Davic asked Caen.

Caen rattled.

"That's what I figured," Davic grumped. "Are you sure you haven't passed up a processor upgrade somewhere?"

Caen replied with a hiss that ended in several sharp beeps.

Aria's eyes widened, Bob's eyebrows shot up, and Turbo's expression darkened. There were murmurs from the keytools.

Davic rolled his eyes. "One of these cycles I'm going to find out who taught you to curse, and go see if he's still accepting students." 

"You're bad enough already, Davic," Bob assured him. "You just aren't as…creative as Caen is."

Davic shrugged. "Maybe it comes with age. Caen's got a ninety-minute lead on me, you know."

Caen made a rude noise, then slid up Davic's arm, wrapped itself around the sapling Davic had been using as a toothpick, and snapped it in two. The halves of the sapling rose on a flickering blue glow, and abruptly jammed themselves into Davic's ogre-furred ears.

"Ow! Hey!" Davic clapped his hands to the sides of his head.

Bob burst out laughing, and even Turbo's angry frown lifted a little.

Davic wrenched the makeshift earplugs out. "You're going to pry every last splinter out of my head, Caen. Then I think I'll let Rubeus use you to play fetch with Fluffy. Then—"

"Devise your punishments later, friend Davic," Aria advised. "The Game is afoot."

Davic growled, but put his hands over his ears while Bob and Turbo donned their keytool-earmuffs.

Aria strode to the top of the nearest rise, and began to play her flute. The sound reached across the hills, echoing with loneliness.

Well down the road, the User's party stopped, and turned their heads to listen.

Aria swayed in time to her music, and the simple melody was suddenly supported by a harmony line.

Turbo stood glaring down the road, his jaw set.

Aria's feet lifted, and with her first few dancing steps, another voice joined the two already issuing from her flute.

Bob looked from Aria to Turbo and back, his expression puzzled.

Down the road, the User's Warrior took a step toward the dancing figure on the hill.

The music built, adding layers of countermelody to the harmonies. Aria finally took the flute from her lips and picked up a descant, her voice swooping and soaring among the other lines of the impossible music.

The User's Sorcerer blinked, then reached into its magical pouch, coming up with a pair of puffballs. These it hastily stuffed into its ears, while its Warrior, Archer, and Thief shuffled steadily toward Aria.

Davic harrumphed impatiently, and his club slipped out from under his ratty belt, landing on the same foot Bob had stepped on earlier. Davic yelped in surprise and pain, taking his hands away from his ears to rub his bruised toes.

Bob, catching a glimpse of Davic's movement out of the tail of his eye, turned. "Davic, no!"

Turbo, with his hearing dulled and his back to Bob, kept his eyes fixed on the User's party.

Davic hopped around holding his injured foot, nearing bowling Bob over in the process. Then the music reached his ears over the sound of his own swearing, and his eyes went wide.

"Davic, don't listen! Cover your ears!" Bob yelled. Caen and Glitch joined the sound, raising a mechanical din of static and feedback.

Aria, now quite literally dancing on air, whirled, her face shining and her eyes bright blue.

The User's Sorcerer dug into its pouch again, this time pulling out a slender wand.

Turbo, eyes on the other three members of the User party, glanced back at the Sorcerer an instant too late. "No! Aria, look out!" He drew his sword and sprinted up the hill toward the Elven Siren.

A spark flew from the Sorcerer's wand, and shaped itself into a bright red arrow as it flew.

Davic took a step toward the hill, his eyes on the glowing figure dancing above the ground.

Bob spun as Turbo neared Aria. His eyes jumped from the Prime Guardian to the magical arrow to the Sorcerer in the road, and his face darkened. Bob trotted purposefully up the road, unslinging his bow and nocking an arrow as he moved. He aimed and let the arrow fly in a single swift motion.

The magical arrow struck, and Aria fell with a cry.

"Aria!" Turbo yelled. 


	21. Secondary Infection Chapter 21

"This is bad," the doctor said, watching the displays of her portable scanner as it examined Matrix. "How long ago was this eye replaced?"

Dot, seated at the foot of the bed, shrugged helplessly and looked to AndrAIa. The Command.com's left eye had swollen shut, and she fingered the greenish-black bruise that had spread across her face. Captain Capacitor, who had "escorted" the gray-haired physician all the way from her practice to her patient, stood in the doorway, sword sheathed and hat in his hands.

"That's a little complicated," AndrAIa started. "I think it was about six seconds ago."

"But that's impossible," the puzzled doctor protested. "The scarring is at least five minutes old."

"It is," Dot explained. "AndrAIa and Matrix have spent a lot of time in the Games, and Game time is accelerated."

The doctor looked from Dot to AndrAIa and back, then dropped her eyes back to her scanner. "It would take a lot of Game time to account for the discrepancies here," she murmured.

"Is eleven minutes enough?" AndrAIa asked with a tinge of bitterness in her voice. "We lost our childhood to the Games." 

The doctor looked up at the lovely young pirate, and slowly nodded. "That would explain how a design only released eight seconds ago can be surrounded by five minutes of scarring."

Matrix stirred, tugging against the cargo straps the crew had hastily rigged as restraints. AndrAIa sighed, but resolutely tapped a nail against the captive's right arm. Matrix's struggles subsided.

"Can you do anything for him?" Dot asked impatiently.

The doctor avoided Dot's eyes in favor of the scanner. "Whoever did this knew his stuff. According to my scan, there's a fail-safe code on every interrupt."

"By Gar-Nass," Captain Capacitor cursed softly.

"Booby traps?" Dot said, stricken.

"Essentially," the doctor replied soberly. "And even if I could remove the viral code safely, I'm not sure how much the code would reintegrate."

"What are you saying?" AndrAIa asked slowly.

The doctor sighed. "I'm saying that if everything goes perfectly, he'll be blind and mentally unstable."

"And at worst?" Dot asked in dread.

"At worst one of those booby traps will go off during surgery, and set off a disintegration cascade," the doctor said sadly. "I'm sorry."

Dot closed her one working eye and took a deep, shuddering breath. AndrAIa's long legs folded beneath her, and she sat down hard. She wrapped her arms around her knees, and trembled, tears leaking from her enormous blue-green eyes.

Captain Capacitor stumped across the floor, his peg leg loud in the hushed cabin. He put his hand on Dot's shoulder. "This vile deed will not go unpunished, my Lady," he told Dot in a tone that spoke of battle and steel. "I will track the murderous wretch across all of cyberspace if need be, and justice will be served by the guns of the _Saucy Mare_."

"This has nothing to do with justice," Dot rasped. "This is about revenge."

"Eeyaa!" Wayne charged through the open doors of the village tavern with an arrow nocked and his wild eyes flickering from purple to green and back. He let the arrow fly, and it embedded itself in the wall behind the User's party. Village Game Sprites scrambled for cover. Wayne wheeled, kicking over a table with a rear leg while drawing another arrow from his quiver. 

Something whistled by his ear, and Wayne instinctively leaped sideways. The User's Archer drew another arrow and let fly at near-point-blank range.

Wayne dropped to the floor even as he yelled his defiance and sent his own arrow toward the User's Sorcerer, huddled under a table with the Thief.

Wayne's arrow plunged through the Sorcerer's robes, wounding the magic-user in the arm.

The Archer's bow twanged again, and Wayne turned his head just in time to see the arrow plunge deep into his equine right shoulder. He screamed and tried to stagger to his feet, but the wounded foreleg buckled and he fell.

The User's Warrior appeared from the back rooms, its armor missing and right arm bandaged. It held its sword in both hands and advanced on Wayne as the injured sprite struggled to get up.

Wayne met the User's blank, pitiless stare, and reached for another arrow. Something slashed across his arm, then darted toward his throat. Wayne caught only a glimpse of the Thief's arm before it was knocked aside by a flailing purple hoof.

"Rrraauugh!" Mouse yelled as she reared. Her head brushed the thatched roof of the one-story tavern. She kicked the Thief in the face and dropped low to grab its dagger as it fell. Her hooves landed solidly on the wooden floor, brushing the arrow in Wayne and making him yelp.

"Hang on, Sugar, the cavalry's here!" Mouse threw the dagger end-over-end into the advancing Warrior's chest, then nocked and loosed an arrow toward the Archer.

The Archer ducked, and Mouse hastily hopped her rear legs over Wayne. She reached down and grabbed his arm. "Come on, get up! We've got to get out of here!"

"No way! We can finish them off!" Wayne took an arrow out of his quiver and slammed it into the prone Thief without bothering with his bow.

"Finish them off!" Mouse exploded. She dodged as an arrow sang by the spot her head had been an instant earlier. She let go of Wayne to fire off an arrow of her own. "We've lost the element of surprise, honey!" she yelled as she sent another arrow toward the Warrior. "They're wounded; let the Game sprites take care of them!"

"The Game sprites _will_ take care of them!" Wayne shouted back. "The User will stay here and rest until its party is healed, and possibly even hire more Game sprites to protect it! This could be our only chance!" He loosed another arrow at the Sorcerer, which had drawn a circle on the floor and was now murmuring while waving its wand slowly over the diagram. "Mouse, the Sorcerer!"

But it was too late. The Sorcerer completed the spell, and the air around Wayne and Mouse shimmered, then turned icy.

"What's happening?" Mouse shrieked. She tried to step back, only to bump against an invisible barrier.

"We're going out like Guardians!" Wayne bellowed. He shook his fist at the User. "Crash you! _To mend and defend_!"

The Sorcerer spoke one final word, and the two system sprites vanished.

"Aria!" Turbo cried again. He dropped his sword and reached out as he ran. He broke the Siren's fall, but both he and Aria tumbled to the ground as the User's Warrior crested the top of the hill. The Warrior blinked as the power of Aria's music faded. 

"Aria," Turbo panted. He cradled her in one mailed arm and hesitantly brushed the fingers of his other hand across the damp stain rapidly spreading across her chest.

"It is mortal," Aria whispered. She moved slowly in Turbo's arms, one hand reaching toward her injury.

An arrow sang overhead, followed by a clang. "Turbo! The User!" Bob loosed another arrow at the Warrior, but the projectile only dinged the User's gleaming armor.

"I've got it," Davic growled. He stuck one toe under the end of his club, and tossed it upwards into his left hand. He stomped up the hill in three long strides, the club whistling as he swung it through the air. Caen chittered and wrapped itself around Davic's head.

Bob glanced down the road, where the Sorcerer was frantically digging through its pouch, which Bob's arrow had pierced through. "Oh, no you don't," Bob muttered. He took another arrow from his quiver, lined up his shot, and stood absolutely still for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. The Sorcerer pulled an age-darkened bone from its pouch, and raised it over its head just as Bob let the arrow fly.

"Sorcerer…destroyed," the Game reported.

"One down, three to go," Bob said.

The User's Warrior danced aside as Davic's club swung down towards it. Davic let out an ogre-growl that shook leaves off the surrounding bushes, and made a grab for the User as it circled around him.

"Aria, stay with me. Just hang on," Turbo begged.

Aria touched her icon. "Again, you must choose, my Prime," she murmured.

"Aria, I—"

"Choose," she repeated. Her blue eyes drifted shut.

"Aria? Aria!" Turbo howled. 

"Turbo, watch your back!" Davic bellowed. An arrow sang past his shoulder as he swung his club at the Warrior again.

"Davic, watch out for the Archer!" Bob yelled. He fired another arrow, this one aimed at the Archer hurrying up the slope.

Davic roared as the Warrior escaped his attack again, then shrieked as an arrow grazed his tree-trunk thigh. 

The Warrior's sword glinted as it slashed toward Turbo and Aria. Turbo's head snapped up, and he caught the Warrior's wrist in an iron grip.

"Hello, User," Turbo rasped as he rose to his feet. "I am the Prime Guardian. You killed my love. Prepare to die." He plunged his mailed fist into the Warrior's face. The Warrior tumbled backward onto the torn grass. It rolled, managing to hang onto its sword. Turbo let out a bellow, and launched himself at the Warrior just as it regained its feet. They both went down with a rattle of steel. 

"Yeah, what he said," Davic growled as he swept the Archer into the air with his club. The Archer flew out over the trees, finally plunging back down somewhere over the horizon.

"Archer…destroyed," the Game said.

"Now that's gotta hurt," Bob remarked from the foot of the hill. Glitch squealed, and Bob turned in the road just in time to meet the Thief as it leaped. The Thief grabbed Bob around his sprite torso, and swung itself onto the Guardian's equine back, reaching for Bob's throat with its dagger.

Bob reared. "Get off me!" He bucked, then kicked out with his rear legs. The Thief fell off Bob's back, but flailed as it fell, slicing Bob across the withers.

Bob yelled, but landed on all four hooves. The Thief landed flat on its back with a _whoosh_ of outflung breath.

Bob approached the scrabbling Thief with a menacing step. "That…_hurt_," he told the Thief. The Guardian of Mainframe carefully placed one forehoof onto the Thief's heaving chest, then circled to bring his rear legs into play. He kicked the dagger away, then flicked his tail disdainfully as he aimed an arrow at the Thief's face. "Why don't you go find something else to do," he suggested conversationally. "Before you make me mad." He lifted his hoof, and the Thief scrambled out from under the Guardian and took to his heels. Bob watched for a long moment, keeping his bow drawn. 

"The Thief has deserted," the Game voice announced calmly.

"That's three," Bob said wearily. 

"Make that four," Davic rumbled. He jerked his head toward Turbo.

Turbo sank the Warrior's own sword into it. "You lose, User," he growled. He yanked the sword out and threw it down as the Warrior dissolved into fluttering bits of color. Turbo turned his back and stalked back up the hill. He knelt beside Aria, and gently arranged her dress around her body before taking her hand.

"Turbo?" Bob asked as he and Davic came slowly up the hill. "Turbo, I—I'm sorry."

"I am, too, Bob. Sorrier than you could ever know," Turbo answered. He looked up into Bob's sad brown eyes, then tapped his icon.

Bob watched Turbo's icon fold, then click into Game Sprite mode. "Turbo, what are you doing?"

"I'm staying with her, Bob." Turbo lowered his eyes, and smoothed Aria's hair. "This is her Game. It'll recognize her source code and restore her when the Game starts again. Then she'll change back to System Sprite and return to the Net." 

"But…the Collective," Bob protested. "It could be minutes before the User inputs this Game again," 

"Or even hours," Davic said quietly, folding his arms across his chest. "You sure you want to risk that?"

"I know what I'm doing," Turbo said. He met Davic's eyes. 

Caen clicked, and Copland responded with a subdued murmur. Pavane hummed.

"Thank you, old friend," Turbo told his keytool.

Copland beeped.

Turbo looked from Davic to Bob, then back. "Go find Wayne and the other User."

"So that's it?" Davic demanded. "You're just going to sit here while the entire Net crashes?"

"I've done my duty, Guardian," Turbo said bitterly. "I left her once. I won't do it again."

"Let him be, Davic," Bob tugged gently at Davic's belt, which was as high as he could reach. 

"Bob? You're just going to let him abandon us? Leave the Collective?"

"I'm not happy about it either, Davic, but we have to respect his decision. Besides, he gave us an order."

"I don't take orders from him anymore," Davic growled. "I don't take orders from anyone but the Prime." He turned and stomped off, leaving a trail of flattened shrubbery and torn-up trees.

Turbo sighed. "You'll keep an eye on him, won't you?" he asked Bob.

"If he lets me," Bob answered. "He'll be all right, Turbo."

"Yeah," Turbo agreed. He nodded toward Davic's trail. "You'd better get going before he gets too far ahead of you."

"I don't think I'll have a hard time following him," Bob said ruefully. He turned after Davic anyway, slinging his bow over one shoulder. "Stay frosty, Turbo."

"You too, Bob. You too." Turbo watched Bob trot off, then shifted and sat down beside Aria, watching the road.


	22. Secondary Infection Chapter 22

The air above the icy road shimmered, then darkened as a shadow from nowhere fell across it.

"Unh!" Mouse landed heavily, and stumbled into Wayne's bulky body. She regained her balance and looked around. "Where are we? Is this still the Game?"

"Yes," Wayne grated. "The Sorcerer must have used some sort of transport magic on us." He stretched out his uninjured foreleg and tried to push himself to his feet. "Give me a hand, here, will you?"

"Sure, Sugar," Mouse said derisively, clapping her hands. 

Wayne reddened. "All right, I deserved that." He set his front legs and tried to get up, but his right front leg buckled beneath him, and he fell. The arrow in his shoulder hit the ground, and Wayne yelped.

"You Guardians just don't know when to quit, do you?" Mouse shook her head, and knelt beside Wayne. "Hold still." She put her left hand on Wayne's side, with her middle fingers on either side of the arrow shaft.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Wayne shifted, alarmed.

"What has to be done. Hold still!" Mouse commanded. She grasped the arrow in her right hand, and gave a quick yank.

Wayne yelped again, scrambling to his feet.

Mouse examined the arrow's tip. "Looks like it's all here. You're lucky it didn't break off." She rose in a move far more graceful than Wayne's wounded lunge had been.

"I don't feel very lucky," Wayne gasped, lifting his injured leg and tucking it under his body. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I didn't," Mouse shrugged. "I was following my instincts."

"You learn fast," Wayne observed, gulping the cold air.

"Slow learners don't last long in my business, Sugar," Mouse replied. "Can you walk?"

"Do I have a choice?" Wayne lowered his right front leg, and took a cautious step forward. He winced. "It'll hold."

"Good. Let's see where this road goes, then." Mouse started off, with Wayne limping painfully behind.

"Davic!" Bob called. He picked his way around the hole opened up by the roots of an ancient tree Davic had shoved down.

There were several crashes and a roar from up ahead.

"Davic!" Bob yelled again. He moved up to a cautious trot over the broken ground.

Glitch beeped.

"Tell Caen it'd better give him more than a headache, before he takes the entire Game apart," Bob replied. 

There was a screech up ahead, followed by a blinding flash of light and an angry chattering.

Davic's voice rang over the broken trees. He was cursing.

"Well, that's a good sign," Bob commented. "At least he's calmed down enough to swear." He surveyed the trail ahead. His tail swished. 

Glitch chattered sternly. 

"I can make it, Glitch," Bob said as he broke into a canter. "At least, I think I can."

Glitch's beep turned into a squeal as Bob's hooves thudded in the soft dirt. Bob ignored his keytool, his eyes on the massive tree trunk blocking Davic's trail. The Guardian's front legs scraped the rough bark of the fallen giant, but he cleared the tree and pounded on.

Glitch clicked.

"Hey, I made it," Bob panted. "I thought I could." He aimed for the middle of the next fallen tree.

Davic's swearing had settled down into mere grumbles by the time Bob reached him. The ogre was seated on the banks of a small stream, with both feet submerged in the running water. He glared at Bob as he approached.

"Caen says this was your idea," Davic accused, lifting his dripping feet from the water. They both sported angry red burns.

Bob held up his hands. "All I said was that it was going to take more than a headache to get your attention."

"Huh," Davic grunted. He dunked his feet back into the stream, then reached down and hauled out a fish the length of one of Bob's legs. "It's a good thing we're friends, city sprite." He tossed the still-flopping fish into his mouth and swallowed it whole. He swallowed, then made a face. "Ugh. It's still wriggling."

"I know the feeling," Bob commented. "So, are you done with the random destruction?"

"I guess so. Unless you've got your car compressed into a pocket or something."

"Hey, it's still recovering from the last time you went joyriding. It hasn't been the same since."

"Have you tried replacing the interocitor yet?" Davic paddled his feet idly in the stream.

"To tell you the truth, I haven't had much time lately."

"That's right, you're the only Guardian in Mainframe, also known as Disaster Central." Davic snatched another fish, and scowled. "Which reminds me; what are we going to do when the Game leaves and takes Turbo with it?"

"Invoke the chain of command, I guess," Bob sighed.

"He picked a pretty rotten time to fall in love," Davic grumbled. He ate the second fish.

"You don't exactly choose to fall in love, Davic," Bob said, taking a few steps into the rushing water. "Come on. We have to find Wayne and the User."

"Yeah," Davic grunted as he rose. "Let's go do what Guardians are _supposed_ to do."

Mouse halted, and looked around, her brow furrowed.

Wayne hobbled up, his injured leg barely touching the muddy track. The road had led them down off the mountain's icy slopes, but as the air had warmed, the road had softened, changing from bare dirt with patches of ice, to slush, to cold sucking sludge. There were clumps of mud clinging to both centaurs' legs and tails, and Wayne was visibly trembling from the cold and his injuries.

"What is it? Why did you stop?" Wayne asked wearily.

"Shh," Mouse said in a low voice, putting a hand on Wayne's arm. "Do you get the feeling we're being watched?"

"What?" Wayne swung his head around, sweeping the open slopes. "Mouse, there's no one here but us. And I for one wish _we_ weren't here."

"Honey, I know an ambush when I feel it." Mouse unslung her bow and reached over her shoulder for an arrow. 

"Well, all I feel is cold and tired." Wayne took another step forward.

The sky abruptly darkened, and the dried brown grass standing tall on either side of the road rattled as a stiff breeze gusted through it. 

Wayne stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as a dark shadow formed on the road ahead. 

"What is it?" Mouse shouted over the sound of the wind in the grass.

"I don't think we want to know!" Wayne answered. 

The shadow solidified, taking on a recognizable shape. An enormous grey horse pawed the ground with a ghostly hoof, and its equally-grey rider lowered his lance.

Wayne took a step backward, and stumbled as his bad leg buckled under him.

The shadow-knight spurred his horse, and the animal reared, then galloped toward the two sprites in the road.

Mouse let her arrow fly, then threw her full weight against the male centaur, shoving him sideways. "I don't think that guy's gonna share the road, Sugar!" She took another lateral step, forcing Wayne to do the same.

Wayne slid down into the muddy ditch beside the road, all four hooves scrabbling for purchase without success. Mouse turned, and leaped just as the knight's charger passed, clipping her hindquarters. She landed on the far bank at an angle, and promptly slid down into the muck. Her flailing rear legs kicked Wayne's feet out from under him just as he was scrambling back up, and they both went down in a heap. Wayne yelled in pain and surprise as he fell onto his injured shoulder. There was a distinct _snap_. Mouse shrieked. "It's broken!" 

"What's broken?"

"This!" Mouse groped in the mud, then held up what was left of her bow. "Give me yours, I'm going to _get_ that thing." She threw away the remnants of her bow, and grabbed at Wayne's.

"But—" Wayne started. Hoofbeats sounded on the road above him, and he twisted around.

The knight's charger pranced as its rider reined it in above the filthy pair.

"Seek you the Legacy of Heroes?" the knight asked in a low, rolling voice.

"I seek your processor on a platter," Mouse snapped.

The knight ignored her. "The Way of Heroes is the Way of All," he intoned. "The Hero and the Humble wake to the same morning. One sees a golden thread and a shimmering sky, the other sees only the rocks and the dirt. Find ye the golden thread." The knight drew his sword and saluted the two of them, then dissolved into smoke, which was quickly blown away by the wind. 

"What was all that mumbo-jumbo for?" Mouse demanded as she tried to wipe away the worst of the mud now clinging to her barrel.

"It must have been a form of Passive. A Game Sprite that gives the User information," Wayne answered wearily. He dragged himself to his feet.

"Honey, that thing wasn't passive. It nearly ran me down." Mouse reached back, and swung her muddy tail into her hands.

"But it didn't actually hurt either of us," Wayne replied. He shook himself, and mud spattered across Mouse's flanks. "That was obviously a clue to solving the Game."

"Any idea what it means?"

"No. There are usually several Passives in a puzzle Game; each one gives you a clue, but none of them make any sense alone." Wayne stood with his legs trembling and his head low.

Mouse's face softened, and she swiped one hand down Wayne's equine back, pushing the mud out of his coat. "Now don't take this the wrong way, honey," she murmured as she started working down Wayne's left shoulder. "I've already got a boyfriend." 


	23. Secondary Infection Chapter 23

"Augh!" Davic paused, and put one hand on his chest. "Caen—" The ogre took several deep breaths as his color grayed, flickered, then steadied.

"What is it? Is Wayne in trouble?" Bob asked.

Caen beeped, then buzzed.

"We're both in trouble," Davic panted. He swallowed, then bent to put both hands on his bare knees. "Wayne's hurt and tired. Caen's having a hard time holding off the infection and supporting his processing codes at the same time."

"And to do that it has to take more energy from you," Bob finished. "Listen, Davic, let's not take any risks we don't have to. You stay here, and I'll—"

"—go get into trouble and need me to save your ASCII," Davic interrupted. He straightened. "We've been through this already, city sprite. I'm fine. Caen just caught me off-guard. Let's move." He strode off, leaving Bob with no choice but to follow.

By the time they reached the village in the foothills, both Wayne and Mouse were stumbling with exhaustion. They traded Mouse's quiver for a night's accommodations at the village inn, including baths and food for both of them. 

Wayne had settled down onto a straw-stuffed mattress laid on the floor, and was sound asleep when something cold and damp touched his injured shoulder. He woke in an instant, all four legs instinctively tucking beneath his body. "Huh?"

"Shh!" Mouse clapped her hand over Wayne's mouth. "It's just me, honey." She took her hand away, and dunked her fingers in a small jar. "Now hold still."

Wayne watched her smear a strong-smelling salve across the cut in his shoulder. "Phew," he whispered. "What is that stuff?"

"It was on a shelf behind the bar, and it's got a label that says "Heal" on it," Mouse whispered back.

"Do I want to know how you got the innkeeper to give it to you?"

"I told him I'd stop kicking his ale barrels over if he gave me the jar," Mouse replied. 

"Nope, I don't want to know," Wayne concluded. He relaxed. "Thanks, Mouse."

"You're welcome, Sugar," the hacker murmured.

"What could be taking them so long?" Dot fretted, pacing the deck.

"Dear lady, you have asked that question many times over the last four microseconds," Captain Capacitor's single eye worriedly tracked the restless Command.com. "The answer has not changed."

"There are _four _Guardians in that Game!" Dot burst out. "They should have beaten it micros ago."

"Games end when they end, my lass," the captain said gently. "Worrying yourself to fragmentation won't make the time pass any more quickly."

Websong rang and echoed across the sky, and a pod of Web creatures soared past the _Saucy Mare II_ as she lay at dock.

Dot raised her eyes and watched the pod go. She stopped and leaned against the far rail. "If only we knew what they were saying!" she bit out in frustration. "They might be telling us that the Web is clear, and that we can go—" she stopped as tears filled her eyes.

Captain Capacitor stumped across the deck. He put his hand on Dot's arm. "The moment the Web opens again, dear lady, I will take this ship through it, to any system you ask."

"The Supercomputer," Dot said fiercely. "They've got the best medical facility in the known systems."

"Aye, lass," Captain Capacitor agreed. "That they do. But are ye willing to risk your brother's life to wait until we can reach the Supercomputer?"

"He'll hold on, Gavin," Dot said. The tears were rolling down her cheeks. "He has to."

The morning found Wayne and Mouse already on the road. Clean, fed, and rested, they moved much more purposefully than the bedraggled pair that had collapsed into sleep the night before.

The salve Mouse had appropriated evidently had some magical qualities—the wound in Wayne's shoulder had closed overnight, though it was not fully healed. Wayne set their pace, moving at first with some care, then gradually shifting into a trot as his muscles warmed.

"Feeling better?" Mouse asked as she trotted alongside Wayne.

"Much better," Wayne confirmed. He grinned at her. "Thanks, Doc."

_"Thanks, Doc." "Thank you, Doctor." "Thanks, Doc, you saved my buddy's life." Thanks Doc Thanks Doc Thanks Doc thanks doc… _

"You OK?" Mouse's voice asked.

Wayne started, then blinked. "Yes. My mind just went on standby for a nano."

Mouse gave him a look that said she didn't believe him, but didn't press the issue.

"Come on, Bob, hurry up," Davic lengthened his stride.

"I am hurrying," Bob puffed. "My legs are shorter than yours."

"This isn't going to work, then," Davic declared. He stopped abruptly, and caught Bob as the centaur slid to a halt. "Be careful with my ears, OK?" He wrapped one massive hand around Bob's forelegs and the other around Bob's rear legs.

"Davic, what are you—whoop!" Bob threw his arms out and grabbed Davic's wrist for balance as the ogre lifted him into the air.

"We need to move faster," Davic explained as he settled Bob around his neck. "I can run faster than you can, so I'll carry you. Ouch!" He winced as Bob grabbed his earlobe. "I said be careful with my ears."

"Quit squeezing my legs and I will," Bob answered nervously. "Davic, are you sure you can stand the energy drain?"

"Wayne's better than he was last night," Davic answered. "Don't ask me how. Caen's readjusting the power draw. I'll be fine."

Caen, tucked into Davic's belt, beeped.

"Hold onto him, good buddy," Davic said.

Caen whistled, a tense, strained sound.

"I know, I know," Davic sighed as he started off again. "But we're in too deep to back out now."

A deep rumbling thrummed beneath Wayne's hooves, and he stopped, his tail twitching.

"Where's it coming from?" Mouse asked. She turned in the road, sweeping her eyes across the hills behind them.

"Right about there, I'd say," Wayne pointed, and Mouse looked.

At first, all that was visible was the swaying of the treetops as something passed. Then the thumping grew louder, and a visible shape loomed above the trees.

"Is that another one of those Passives?" Mouse asked, peering into the bright sunlight behind the figure. "'Cause if it is, I say we hightail it out of here."

"It's not a Passive," Wayne answered. "Worse. It's Davic."

The Guardian ogre burst out of the trees, loping across the rolling ground with Bob jouncing on his neck. Davic skidded to a halt, and lowered Bob to the ground. Mainframe's Guardian had a greenish tinge to his blue skin, and he reeled from side to side as he stood in the road, his eyes slipping in and out of focus.

"Come on, it wasn't that bad," Davic chided as he caught his breath. "What are you doing here?" he asked Mouse.

"Just testing a little upgrade I gave myself a while back, Sugar," Mouse answered. She stepped closer to Bob, and looked him over. "You ReBoot well, honey."

Bob gave her a look that spoke volumes, then swallowed and said, "You don't look too bad either, Mouse. Maybe you and Ray should go Game-hopping after we get out of all this."

"Mm, I don't think so," Mouse said coquettishly. "Playing by the User's rules really isn't my style. I think I'll leave the Game-playing to the full-fledged Guardians from now on." She shot Wayne a look, and he winced.

"How are you, Wayne?" Davic asked. "Caen's told me you got into some trouble."

"I did," Wayne confirmed. "I'm OK, though."

Davic lifted a shaggy eyebrow.

"Where's Turbo?" Wayne asked hurriedly.

Davic's face darkened. "He's not on our side anymore," he grunted.

"_What?_ He joined up with the User?" Mouse exclaimed.

"No," Bob put in. "It's not possible for a system sprite to become a User avatar. What Davic means is that Turbo's going to stay with the Game."

"_What!?"_ Wayne and Mouse exploded.

"Let's explain while we move," Davic interrupted. "Time isn't on our side." He almost unconsciously touched the glowing keytool at his belt.


	24. Secondary Infection Chapter 24

The User kept to the roads, following whatever it was that Users used in place of logic. Davic, Bob, Mouse, and Wayne cut across country, tracking the User with Glitch's sensors. Davic plowed through the underbrush, yanking up whatever came to hand to feed his ogre appetite, and incidentally clearing a path for the three centaurs. He waded several swift rivers with a centaur under each arm and a third draped across his neck. Wandering bands of Game Sprites scattered before Davic's heavy tread. 

"So Aria came from this Game?" Wayne said as he trotted beside Bob.

"That's what she said," Bob confirmed. "Turbo said that this is actually an upgraded version of her Game."

"That might explain why it only took that one arrow to finish her," Mouse said musingly. 

"Or maybe that Sorcerer was just lucky," Davic growled around a mouthful of apple trees.

"In my experience there's no such thing as luck," Mouse countered.

"Luck or not, we've got to get Turbo to come out of the Game with us," Wayne said. "If he's the Prime, and there's an infection loose in the Net—"

"Not to mention a virus loose in the Web," Davic added.

"—the Collective needs its Prime," Wayne finished. He stopped. "Can one of you guide me to Turbo?"

"What for? He's made up his mind," Davic growled.

"No, he hasn't," Wayne said with an edge to his tone.

The other sprites stopped, and looked back at Wayne. The ex-Guardian met their questioning faces with an implacable gaze.

"Someone should keep track of the User," Bob offered finally.

"Why don't you take the hacker lady and go entertain the User, Bob," Davic said. His tone was incongruously deferential for an ogre. "I'll lead the Doc back to Turbo."

Bob nodded. Mouse acknowledged the change with a flick of her tail, and the two of them jogged off, following Glitch's guidance.

"Well, let's go," Davic murmured. "It's this way."

Davic and Wayne rejoined the road a little south of the hamlet of Raven's Hame. Davic prudently gave the town a wide berth, circling around it before picking up the road again. He paused to reach over the wall of a vineyard and uproot a handful of grapevines, which he generously shared with Wayne. He also raided a henhouse for eggs. "I don't think I like those so much," he commented after he'd swallowed the results of his raid. "Too scratchy."

"They'd probably taste better if you took the eggs out of the nests first," Wayne observed.

There was a commotion behind them, and Davic turned to look over his shoulder. Caen beeped.

"Uh-oh," Davic grunted. 

The noise grew louder.

"What do you mean, uh-oh?" Wayne asked suspiciously.

"Well, apparently the farmer who provided my little snack has just found out about his charitable donation," Davic answered.

Wayne rolled his eyes. "How bad?"

Davic consulted Caen. "Looks like we're about to meet the entire village mob. Have you got a good run in you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really. Want to run or ride?"

"After seeing what riding did to Bob, I think I'll run." Wayne picked up his gait from a trot to a gallop. There was a noticeable hitch in his stride as he strained his injured leg, but he kept up with Davic's long legs until the angry villagers were left far behind.

Wayne dropped back to a walk, limping. "I think we've lost them," he panted.

"Good," Davic replied, settling back to a saunter himself. "It would have been a shame to pass this up." He stepped off the road into a pumpkin patch, and stuffed a few into his mouth before starting to fill his hands with pumpkins the size of Wayne's hindquarters.

Wayne stood in the road and watched the Net Guardian. "Tell me, are you a thief in-system as well as in Games?"

"Yup," Davic said without rancor. "What can I say, it's a gift. If it weren't for the Guardian protocol I'd be worth a few trillion units by now. But Turbo got a hold of me, and now I'm completely ruined. Too honest." He popped another pumpkin into his mouth and bit it in a spray of juice and seeds. 

"Let's move on, then, before someone else finds out about your 'gift'," Wayne said dryly.

"In a nano," Davic answered. He gulped down a few more pumpkins. "I need a few more for the road. I'm eating for two, you know." 

"Can Caen move Game energy through the link?" Wayne asked.

"It says it can," Davic shrugged. "I've asked how, but the answer comes back as gibberish."

Caen made a rude noise.

"Well, you could have done it in some normal programming language," Davic retorted. 

Caen's reply was lengthy. Davic's furry ears turned red.

"All right, all right, I'm a monoglot dope. Cut it out already," Davic grumbled.

"How far are we from Turbo?" Wayne asked, changing the subject.

Davic nodded toward the horizon. "I can see him from here."

"Good. Let's go." Wayne trotted off at a brisk pace, still lame in his right front leg.

Caen beeped.

"That's bad," Davic said through a mouthful of pumpkins. He started after Wayne, munching as he went.

Caen buzzed, then whistled.

"That's worse." Davic sighed. "How do I get myself into these things?" he asked no one in particular, "Can Bob and Mouse keep them busy, at least?"

Caen replied with a single click.

"That's what I figured." Davic shoved another handful of pumpkins into his mouth, and picked up his pace a little to keep up with Wayne, who had now shifted into a canter.

"Turbo?" Wayne paused at the foot of the hill, and looked up at the silent shadow spread across the hill's crest. "Turbo, what are you doing?"

"What I should have done ten minutes ago," Turbo answered.

"This isn't ten minutes ago, Turbo," Wayne said harshly. "This is now." He took a few steps up the hill. "You can't go back and change what happened then."

"Who're you to talk?" Turbo grated. "You're the one who's trying to deny fifteen minutes of history."

"That's right, I was," Wayne admitted. "But you were right, Turbo—we haven't got time for regrets. We're both needed."

"'…the good of the many…'", Turbo murmured. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're going to let them recompile your memory?"

"Yes."

"Good. You'll know then what you've asked of me."

"I have a pretty good idea of that now," Wayne said softly. He took the last few steps, and carefully settled down beside Aria. "I'm sorry, Turbo."

"Mm. Me too."

Davic skidded to a halt at the foot of the hill. "I hate to break up this tragic moment, but we've got company coming!" He pointed.

Wayne looked in the direction Davic indicated, and his eyebrows rose. "Is that the User?"

"Looks like it," Turbo confirmed. He rose, and glanced around for his sword. He caught Wayne's eye as he tapped his icon. "No rest for the weary, huh?"

"Isn't that the Guardian motto?" Wayne asked ruefully.

"Bob and Mouse are right behind them," Davic reported. "Only two of the User's party are left. Hey—good shot! Make that one."

"Which one's left?" Turbo asked.

Copland beeped, and Davic whooped. 

"Doesn't matter, Boss, we're done!" Davic cried. "User, am I glad that's over."

"Game…Over," the system voice announced. The Game lifted.

Davic and Wayne both gasped as the Game withdrew, and they flickered as Caen squealed.

"Davic!" Turbo grabbed the Net Guardian before he fell. Mouse and Bob ran toward them from a little further up the street. A siren began to blare from the direction of the system's Principle Office.

Wayne wove unsteadily, and blinked dumbly at Mouse and Bob as they eased him gently to the ground. He winced, and rubbed his behind. "User got me," he murmured. His eyes shaded from purple to green and back.

"Crash it, Caen, hold him," Davic ground out as he sat down on the sidewalk.

Caen's buzz sang up the scale to a rattling whine. 

Several ambulances turned onto the street, and screeched to a halt beside the weary group. Binome paramedics piled out, almost tripping over each other in their hurry.

"The readings only show five sprites—" someone said.

"Foxtrot says no one came out of the Game in his system—"

"—who got deleted?" A young one binome looked from one face to the next. His single eye widened. "Where—where's Aria?"

"She's all right," Turbo said heavily. "She had to stay with the Game." He indicated Davic, who was taking deep breaths and staring fixedly at the sidewalk, shuddering. "We've got a couple of medical emergencies here, son."

The paramedics looked up at him, their eyes very solemn, then went to work. They bundled all five sprites into ambulances, efficiently ignoring Bob's protestations and Mouse's demonstrations of good health.

Wayne drifted. He listened to the binomes around him talk. Words like "pulse" and "rate" slipped across his mind and vanished. The edges of the world tilted and skewed. There was a moment of nagging pain, and an instant of sudden power, then things settled back into gray formlessness. He wondered idly what had happened to the pain, and then he slipped into darkness.


	25. Secondary Infection Chapter 25

__

"Wayne, time for supper!" Mother stood at the gate, calling him home. She smiled at him and rubbed his bristly yellow hair. "I'm proud of you, Wayne," she said as he hugged her. There was a roaring sound in his ears.

He craned his neck to see over the heads of the other children. "Where's the Guardian?" he asked his father.

"He's coming," his father assured him. "He'll be here."

Wayne pressed close to his father's side as the parade came closer. The roaring in his ears drowned out the sound of the cheers as the Guardian's car passed by.

"Hey, is your brain on standby?" Turbo hung his head over the edge of his bunk and grinned at him. "You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"I was thinking," he answered.

"Bet I know what you were thinking about," Turbo teased. "You're thinking about that pretty girl in Diplomacy class."

Wayne's ears burned. "It's not just that she's pretty," he faltered. 

"But it sure doesn't hurt," Turbo laughed. "Ask her out, good buddy. The worst she can do is say no."

"You can say that," Wayne countered. "You could get a date with any girl in the class if you wanted."

Turbo sobered. "Yeah, but I never know if they're interested in me or in telling their parents they went out with the Prime Guardian's kid."

Wayne started to reply, but was distracted by the roar that suddenly washed across his consciousness.

Paganini was crashing. He knew it even as the BIOS fell apart before his eyes, even though his hands were still working over the fading keys, even as Ral sent out a final emergency code. He worked from his own Guardian-safed memory, cudgeling his wits for basic structural codes. The bug ate as fast as he worked. Faster. It was tireless and insatiable. He was alone and exhausted. His fingers slipped across the keys, and the bug gobbled down the useless mess of code he'd just written. 

"Wayne!" Someone called his name out of the void. "Guardian 147! Are you still processing?"

He wasn't sure. There was only the bug and his opposition to it. Did mere will count as processing?

"Wayne!" 

Someone grabbed his arm. He glanced down, surprised that he still had an arm.

"Wayne, thank the Net you're still compiled. Come on, we have to get out of here!"

The face and the voice were familiar. "Simon?"

"I got Ral's call. Come on!" Simon's keytool activated as the last of Paganini's BIOS collapsed.

"Wayne?" Someone was knocking on the door. "Wayne, open up. It's me."

"Go away," Wayne said from the sofa. 

"If that's the way you want it." There was a pause, then a crash as the door split in two. Turbo rubbed his shoulder. "I don't know why you wanted me to break your door down again, Wayne."

"I didn't. Leave me alone, Turbo."

"Don't worry, I will. I'm just dropping something off." Turbo turned back into the hallway, and bent down. When he turned around again, there was a box in his arms.

"What is it this time?" Wayne asked wearily.

"You need to get out. This will make sure you do." Turbo reached into the box, and gently lifted something out. He deposited it in Wayne's lap.

Wayne looked at it, and it looked back at him. The fluffy puppy wagged its tail hesitantly. 

"Turbo, what is this?" Wayne asked.

"It's a puppy, you idiot. He'll grow up to be a dog."

"I can't take him, Turbo." Wayne ruffled the little creature's fur.

"Why? Because you're too busy feeling sorry for yourself?" Turbo sat down on the coffee table. "You haven't got anything else to do, Wayne. It's been two seconds since you purged your protocol, and you haven't so much as glanced at the Help Wanted files."

"I deleted two hundred thousand lives, Turbo," Wayne said brokenly, cradling the puppy as it licked his fingers.

"A bug deleted Paganini, Wayne," Turbo corrected. "How long is it going to be before you inprocess that thought? Here—" he handed Wayne a braided nylon leash. "Go take your dog for a walk. I'll call the manager about getting your door fixed."

"Who are you?" He struggled in Charlie's grip. "What do you want?"

"I am Daemon," she replied, smiling. She hovered in the air above him. "Do not worry. I do not cause pain." She stroked his cheek.

"Go to Level Seven! Level Eight!"

"What in the Net was that?"

"I figure it's some new kind of infection."

"It can't be." 

The darkness swirled around him, and a misty light showed through. Voices. He sank again. 

After some time (Nanos? Cycles? He had no idea, and couldn't remember why it mattered) he surfaced again. His head ached, and he slowly became aware of a throbbing pain in his right hip.

"Welcome back, old friend." 

He oriented on the voice. "Turbo?" 

"Right in one." Turbo settled back into the chair beside the bed. "How you feeling?"

Wayne slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes, then massaged his temples for a long moment before sighing and answering, "I remember how old I am, if that's what you mean."

"Time sure flies, doesn't it?" Turbo murmured.

Wayne chuckled a little. "I thought time only flew when you were having fun."

"Someone should update that readme to 'time flies when you're already too busy'," Turbo said ruefully.

"Mm. So, how much have I missed?"

Turbo sobered. "About six micros. You were in pretty bad shape." 

"Did they find the infection?" Wayne asked in a tightly controlled voice.

The Prime Guardian shook his head. "No. Dr. Bingen says there's not a trace of infection on any of your scans."

"So it's still there," Wayne said wearily. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "How is Davic?"

"Sound asleep, and Caen's not letting anyone wake him up. Davic's a tough kid, but he does have power limits."

"So there's no evidence Davic or Caen is infected?"

"They're both as close to normal as they ever are," Turbo assured him. 

"Good." Wayne swung his legs out of bed, tapping his icon as he did. His icon beeped, then replaced Wayne's hospital gown with a fresh pair of khaki pants and a casual shirt. Wayne set his feet on the floor, wincing as his right hip protested.

Turbo leaned forward to put a hand against Wayne's shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To find the lab. There must be one here somewhere."

"There is, but you don't need to get anywhere near it," Turbo said.

"I've got to find this thing, Turbo," Wayne said earnestly. "Before it drives the entire Net random." His brow furrowed. "Is Bob's cadet still here?"

"Yeah." Turbo opened his mouth as if to say more, then propped his elbows on his knees and ran his hands over his face. 

"Something's wrong." It wasn't a question. 

"Dr. Bingen's handling it."

"Tell me, Turbo."

"You're in no condition—"

"Crash that," Wayne cut him off. "My eyes might turn green in two nanos, but for now I'm in my right mind, and if—did you say Dr. Bingen?" Wayne's expression went from grim to surprise.

"Yeah," Turbo answered warily. 

"Dr. _Hildegarde _Bingen?" Wayne pressed.

"That's her. According to Dot and Capacitor, she's the best surgeon in the system."

"She would have to be," Wayne answered positively. "She wrote the readme on basic surgery techniques. Every med student reads Dr. Bingen." His face clouded. "She's been semi-retired for minutes."

"Capacitor and Dot persuaded her to come out of retirement to take a look at Matrix," Turbo said dryly. 

Wayne closed his eyes. "The station. The virus…"

"You OK?" Turbo asked anxiously.

"Yes," Wayne answered. "I'm just exploring my new memory tree." He opened his eyes. "Matrix. He's—"

"Slave-disked," Turbo finished heavily. "And there's no way to remove the interrupts without causing permanent damage. Or worse."

Wayne slowly shook his head. "There's got to be a way," he said slowly. "I need that cadet's code." He looked up at Turbo.

Turbo closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "Look, I can get Doctor Bingen in here to show you if you want, but I've seen the scans. Megabyte didn't just corrupt Matrix's PID, he hotwired the poor kid's source code. There are cascade triggers wrapped around just about every processing algorithm. Set just one of those things off, and—" Turbo shrugged sadly. 

Wayne paled. "Let me talk to Doctor Bingen, Turbo."

"There's nothing you can do, Wayne."

"Let me be the judge of that," Wayne said, a little more firmly. 

"All right," Turbo sighed. "You never did know when to quit."

"There's no such thing as the no-win scenario, Turbo," Wayne murmured. "Not when you can't afford to lose."


	26. Secondary Infection Chapter 26

Doctor Hildegarde Bingen arrived in the doorway to Wayne's room carrying an outdated scanner in one hand and a data pad in the other. She had crow's-feet around her deep grey eyes, and her hair was silvery-gray. She moved with the assured speed of perfect health, however. She set the data pad on the foot of Wayne's bed and gave him a measuring look. "The Prime says you're feeling better," she began.

"Apparently I have you to thank for that," Wayne answered graciously. "It's an honor to meet you, Doctor Bingen."

"The honor is mutual, Doctor MacHewlett," the gray-haired doctor replied. "I've read your readmes on the controlled use of magnets. Your approach is unorthodox, but your results speak of talent." 

"Thank you," Wayne said modestly.

"Turbo told me you're interested in the slaved cadet?"

"Yes. If you don't mind," Wayne added hastily.

Doctor Bingen raised her eyebrows. "I'll make you a deal." She picked up the data pad and tossed it into Wayne's lap. "You can look that over while I scan you."

"Deal," Wayne affirmed. He turned on the data pad and flipped through its contents, ignoring the scanner's beeps and his doctor's gently probing touch. His face clouded, then lengthened as he read. "This is bad," he said faintly.

"Very bad," Doctor Bingen confirmed. "Your energy levels are still fluctuating, and your processing code hasn't recompiled as much as it should have by now."

"That's not what I meant." Wayne's brows furrowed. 

"He's my patient, Doctor," Doctor Bingen said firmly. "And so are you. You're going to have to let the system process without you for a while. Trust me, it will still be there when you're back online."

"Maybe not," Wayne grunted. "Did Turbo tell you about the infection?" Wayne asked tensely.

The gray-haired doctor set her scanner down and met his eyes. "He did. We put you through every scan we have, looking for traces. There's nothing there."

"Nothing but the viral traces left by Daemon," Wayne corrected.

"No," Doctor Bingen shook her head. "There's no evidence you were ever infected by Daemon. The traces must have fallen apart as your power levels dropped."

"That's impossible," Wayne protested. "The infection must have left some bits of itself in my uncorrupted code."

"Your code doesn't show anything except overload damage," Doctor Bingen told him flatly. "If Turbo hadn't assured me that there's an epidemic in the Web, I'd have said you overdosed on core energy and it burned your processing codes to a crisp."

"There has to be a connection," Wayne stated. He tapped the data pad. "We have to come up with a way to recover Matrix's code."

Doctor Bingen let out a short, exasperated sigh. "Those are _fail-safe_ interrupts, Doctor," she told Wayne curtly. "We can't shut down any of the patient's processing algorithms without setting off a disintegration cascade, and we can't remove any one of them fast enough to keep it from setting off the others in real time. It's just not possible."

"'Can't' isn't one of our options, Doctor," Wayne shot back. "If we can't remove the things fast enough—" he broke off, his eyes going distant. "We'll just have to stay ahead of it."

Doctor Bingen's eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. "_What?_ You're talking about letting the fail-safes go off!"

"Yes. I think we can get around that, but we're going to need some outside expertise." Wayne swung out of bed and limped to the door, reaching out to catch himself on the doorjamb. He looked back at the outraged doctor. "Call it another one of my unorthodox ideas, Doctor."

The hospital waiting room was roomy, well-lit, and decorated in soothing colors. Despite the best intentions of its designers, however, it had an air of desperate tension that seemed to have seeped into the very walls.

Dot Matrix, Command.com of Mainframe, had finally paced and cried herself to exhaustion, and fallen asleep in Bob's arms. Bob simply held Dot and waited, his eyes wide and sad. Turbo sprawled in an easy chair, his lean frame relaxed but alert. There were dark circles around the Prime Guardian's sharp eyes, and his face had lines that made him look far older than he was. Mouse sat beside AndrAIa on a couch by the window. The hacker's voice was a soft murmur as she talked with the Game sprite—her words reached only AndrAIa's ears. Captain Capacitor had posted a guard, then left, ostensibly to see to the repairs of the _Saucy Mare II_. In truth, he had made such a nuisance of himself that the hospital staff had finally suggested that he leave a contact number and go "take his mind off his worry".

Wayne strode into the waiting room, moving fast despite his sore leg. He headed straight for Mouse. "How good are you?" he demanded, his eyes intent.

"I beg your pardon?" Mouse asked, her eyebrows rising.

"She's the best there is," Turbo put in.

"What's going on?" Dot asked sleepily, as she stirred in Bob's arms.

Doctor Bingen, flanked by a pair of hefty orderlies, answered, "I'm afraid Doctor MacHewlett hasn't quite shaken off the effects of his recent ordeal."

"I'm fine," Wayne said evenly, without taking his eyes off Mouse. "I just need to know if you're as good as they say you are."

"That depends, honey," Mouse said, regaining her composure. "What have you heard?"

"From what I've heard, you just might be capable of keeping up with a parallel-triggered disintegration cascade in real time," Wayne said.

Mouse cocked an eyebrow. "That's a mighty tall order, sugar," she said. "You're talking about intercepting multiple encrypted signals at once."

"Actually, I'm talking about intercepting multiple encrypted signals, defusing them, then using them as bumpers to block the cascade from progressing further." Wayne matched Mouse's quizzical look with a challenging eyebrow of his own. "Of course, the sooner you outrun it, the fewer signal paths you'll have to block."

"Are you out of your mind?" Doctor Bingen exploded. "You'd be risking your patient's life on the remote chance that an untrained _hacker_ can decode a viral interrupt signal fast enough to stop it before it can propagate. Even if you don't get a runaway cascade, the damage—"

"Will be no worse than what he'd suffer if we simply tried to pull the interrupts without triggering them," Wayne interrupted. "Face it, Doctor, there's no chance that you won't touch off the cascade. The things are designed with conventional surgery in mind. If we go in with the intention of avoiding the cascade, we're playing by the virus's rules. If we touch off the cascade on purpose, we can control when and how it happens, and where in the code. Once we know what it's going to do, we can stop it."

"Could that work?" Dot said, her voice full of desperate hope.

"It'll be touch and go," Wayne told her. He turned to the gray-haired doctor, his face carefully neutral. "You might want to get a second opinion."

Doctor Bingen looked from Dot, to Wayne, to Mouse, then back to Wayne. "I'd like to see a little more detail of what you're suggesting, Doctor," she said quietly. "What you are proposing is unheard-of, but every technique is unheard-of until someone tries it."

"Help my brother," Dot said tearfully. "Do whatever you have to, just save him."

Wayne nodded slowly, his eyes still on Doctor Bingen. "We'll need some time to plan this out."

"Perhaps we should move to a conference room," the doctor offered. "You can use the projectors to show me how you plan to control a cascade."

"It all depends on Mouse," Wayne said. 

"You show me the code, I'll tie it in knots if you want," Mouse told him, rising from the couch. 

"All right," Wayne said. "Let's go do the impossible."

"Ms. Matrix?" Wayne, leaning heavily on a sturdy cane, nudged Dot's arm gently.

Dot opened her eyes and took a deep breath as she woke from a sound sleep. "Yes?" She shifted carefully beneath Bob's arm. "What is it, Doctor?"

"Hm?" Bob grunted, then stretched. "What's happening?"

"Your brother will probably need a few code transfusions, Ms. Matrix," Wayne said gently. "We'd also like to have a scan of your source code, so we can compare the programming logics as we rebuild his processing code."

"All right," Dot said faintly. "Do you want to do the scan now?"

"If you don't mind," Wayne replied.

"I'll go tell Turbo what's going on," Bob said. He got up and looked at Wayne. "If you need code donors—"

"We do," Wayne said. "Guardian patch files are pretty short in the system."

Dot gave the doctor a stricken look.

"I won't lie to you, Ma'am," Wayne said frankly. "This is a long shot. Once the interrupts are out, we'll have to rebuild the damaged synapses. Now with your code as a template, we've got a better shot at getting close to the original structure."

"It would be even closer if Enzo was here," Dot put her head on Bob's shoulder. 

"Enzo?" Wayne gave Dot a puzzled look. 

"A backup of Matrix. He's almost 11 now," Bob explained.

"A backup _would_ be the ideal template," Wayne confirmed. "Has the Web opened?"

Bob shook his head. "The Web Riders would have called if it was safe to open a Portal."

"Can we wait?" Dot asked. "The Web might clear any nano."

"Every nano we wait increases the risks," Wayne said soberly. "The effects of heavy sedation, on top of viral infection…" He shook his head.

Dot took a deep, sobbing breath. "All right." She looked up into Wayne's eyes. "Let's do it."


	27. Secondary Infection Chapter 27

The waiting room clock ticked, measuring the long nanos with nervous precision.

Davic, AndrAIa, and Turbo had dragged three chairs around a small table, and Turbo had talked Copland into providing a board game to pass the time. 

Davic rolled a game piece around in his fingers, his brow furrowed. He finally sighed, and placed the piece into a fragile-looking tower standing on one edge of the board. "Go ahead," he told AndrAIa. 

AndrAIa propped her chin in her hand and looked at the board, her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. Her eyes skipped from piece to piece, and then her face cleared as she reached across the board and moved a few slender rods. "Connections complete," she announced with satisfaction. "Do I get an upgrade for that?"

"Yup," Turbo answered as AndrAIa's tower suddenly changed color. "Processor upgrade."

"A _processor_ upgrade?" Davic protested. "She only laid in that new memory two turns ago."

"And she took advantage of it immediately," Turbo said approvingly. "She had her system planned for easy expansion. She didn't have to waste time uninstalling old parts." The Prime Guardian made his move as he talked, shifting a tile here, a wire there. 

"System design isn't my function," Davic defended himself. "I don't tell people how to run their system, they don't try to tell me how to hunt viruses."

Caen, wrapped around its Guardian's head, chittered.

"No, thank you," Davic told it sourly. "You already scanned me for brain damage, remember? Help me figure this out."

Caen clicked. 

"Thanks a _lot,_ Caen."

"The game isn't about system design, Davic," Turbo said with an air of mild reproof. "It's about taking advantage of whatever resources the game gives you to start with, and building from your strengths."

Caen buzzed, and Copland whistled back. Turbo chuckled as Davic rolled his eyes.

"What did they say?" AndrAIa asked.

"Caen said Davic's strengths are finding trouble and making trouble, and Copland told it that it's still trying to train me out of that habit."

AndrAIa smiled, but then her eyes strayed to the clock on the wall.

"Signal canceled," Wayne reported. "Code stable."

"OK," Mouse said with a breath of relief. "That's four."

"Ready for number five?" Doctor Bingen asked.

Mouse stretched in her chair, then flexed her fingers. "I'm ready. How about you?" she asked the medical resident manning the insertion heads.

"Ready and waiting," the ponytailed young doctor answered.

"Good," Doctor Bingen said. "Doctor MacHewlett?"

"I'm fine," Wayne said, his eyes on the monitors. The virus monitor on his left arm had not so much as beeped. "The boards are clear," Wayne went on. "BP within tolerance, pulse a little slow but within expected range. When you're ready, Doctor Bingen."

"Very good," Doctor Bingen accepted the report. "Galen, would you set heads one through five and twelve through sixteen, please?"

Copland beeped, declaring AndrAIa the winner of the game.

"Well played," Turbo complimented the younger sprite. "You sure you've never played this game before?"

"I'm a fast learner," AndrAIa said with a smile. Her smile quickly disappeared, though, as she glanced at the clock.

"It's only been a microsecond, AndrAIa," Turbo said gently. "They couldn't possibly be finished yet."

"Yeah," Davic put in as Copland retracted and set itself back onto Turbo's arm. "If we haven't heard anything, that's good news—he's not dead."

Caen burbled something and lifted one end of itself out from under Davic's hair to give its Guardian a solid rap to the side of the head.

"Hey! Stop that," Davic said, grabbing Caen's free end before it could strike again. "OK, so it was tactless. It's still true."

Caen gave a short clack of disgust, then shifted in Davic's hand. Still clinging to Davic's head with one end, the keytool wrapped its other end around Davic's hand, then retracted, slapping Davic's palm over his mouth. Davic rolled his eyes, Turbo chuckled, and AndrAIa took her eyes off the clock long enough to giggle nervously.

"Signal shifting!" Wayne cried. "Mouse—"

"I see it!" Mouse's hands flew over her board. "That doublecrossing…these things are adaptive!" 

"Thirty picoseconds to propagation," Doctor Bingen said.

"Write heads in place," Galen said.

"Come on, faster," Mouse urged her equipment. "Match that thing—got it!" she crowed, slamming her hand down on the board. "Countersignal deployed."

"Head three, signal canceled," Wayne reported. "Head eight, four, thirteen—there they go. Code's going stable."

"How's he doing?" Doctor Bingen asked.

"BP has dropped, and his pulse is starting to flutter," Wayne answered soberly. "I'm getting some isolated immune response, though."

"He's fighting, then," Doctor Bingen said.

"He's a tough kid," Mouse said fiercely.

"Dinner's here!" Bob said with a cheerfulness that sounded just a little forced. He strode into the room with Dot trailing along behind. Bob's arms were piled high with bags and boxes, and Dot carried a tray of drinks.

"Bula mashed the potatoes herself," Bob said as he approached the table where AndrAIa, Turbo and Davic sat. "I've never seen someone put that much energy into cooking before. Huh, Dot?" He turned to look over his shoulder at Dot, and several boxes fell off the top of the pile to the tabletop.

"Yes," Dot answered distractedly. She glanced at the clock as she set the drink tray down on the table, then mechanically set about setting the table and opening boxes.

"Bula's in trouble with the ship's cook now—what's his name, Dot, did you catch it?"

Dot didn't answer.

Bob filled the intervening silence. "Anyway, there are potatoes all over the galley now. I haven't seen such a mess since I left the Academy."

"Why, have you taken to eating all your meals out?" Davic teased. "Our team leader used to threaten to put Bob in the kitchen to get us to run laps faster," he told AndrAIa.

"You're the one who ruined the salad," Bob reminded him.

"That was a labeling problem."

"Most sprites can tell the difference between spam and bacon bits without a label…"

"Code stabilizing," Wayne said as one of his monitors went off. "We're losing the pulse again."

"I've got it," Doctor Bingen said. Matrix flickered unsteadily as the surgeon worked.

"Poor kid," Galen said sympathetically as Doctor Bingen placed yet another code shunt. "It's gonna a long recovery."

"Let's concentrate on making sure he gets the chance to recover, Galen," Doctor Bingen ordered. "Retractor, please."

"That's four microseconds," Dot said, staring at the clock. "They should be almost done with the interrupts."

No one had anything to say to that. Bob, Davic, and Turbo exchanged a three-way glance, then Turbo lowered his chin just a fraction—the barest hint of a nod.

"Well, I'm going to go stretch my legs," Davic said casually. He got up, and Caen snapped into a long, slender staff. "It's a little stuffy in here."

"Good idea," Bob chimed in. "Turbo, would you mind staying here, in case there's news?"

"Sure, Bob," the Prime Guardian said. "You kids look like you could use some fresh air."

"Come on, Dot," Bob gently helped Dot to her feet. "AndrAIa, how about you?"

"Yes," AndrAIa said, with a wan smile. "That's a good idea, Bob."

Turbo watched the trio leave the waiting room, then murmured something to Copland. The keytool gave a soft click in reply.


	28. Secondary Infection Chapter 28

"Multiple signal shifts!" Wayne cried. "It's adapting in transit!"

Mouse let out a high-pitched squeak of desperation as she worked to counter not one but several different signal mutations.

"Twenty picoseconds to propagation," Doctor Bingen rapped out.

"I can't do it!" Mouse shrieked. "They're changing too fast!"

"Ten picoseconds!" Doctor Bingen snapped.

"Dear sweet User, we're gonna lose him," Galen said, horrified.

A squeal of mechanical alarm shrilled, making Mouse jump at her boards.

"Are you giving up? So soon? How disappointing. I guess it's my turn, then," Wayne said, his eyes gleaming bright green.

"Propagation," Doctor Bingen whispered, her eyes on Wayne.

Wayne put one hand on the edge of his boards and jumped over them without obvious effort. He looked down at Matrix, gray and flickering, then he pushed the write heads out of the way. "You're really making this much harder than it has to be," he told the doctor. He put one hand on Matrix's chest, and his hand glowed suddenly red. A burst of light shot through Matrix's body, and the unconscious sprite heaved, then fell back onto the table as Galen gasped and Doctor Bingen lunged across her patient to grab the green-eyed doctor.

The monitor was still wailing. Wayne turned and looked at it even as Doctor Bingen tugged at his shirt. 

"This thing really is annoying. I wonder why I didn't take care of it before." Wayne touched the monitor with one finger. It exploded into sparks and fell silent. "Much better," Wayne said approvingly.

"Galen! Call security!" Doctor Bingen yelled. She changed her grip on Wayne, trying to shove him away from Matrix. "No, check the boards! What did he do?"

"Chaos will always triumph over order. It is the way of things," Wayne told her pleasantly as the young resident scrambled to comply. He grinned at the white-faced doctor, then disappeared with a loud bang.

"Caen! What was that?" Davic slipped into a supply room as a pair of nurses hurried past in the hall.

Caen beeped, then chattered.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no…" Davic put his back against the door and leaned the back of his head against it. "Did he kill the kid?"

Caen clacked.

"Where is he now?"

Caen clicked, and its little screen lit up in the dark closet.

"One thing at a time, Caen," Davic murmured as his eyes flicked across the screen. "One thing at a time."

"He's crashing!" Galen yelled.

"Get those write heads aligned!" Doctor Bingen cried back. "No, Mouse, you do that. Galen, get over here. I need your hands."

A burly sprite burst through the door. "Someone called for security?"

"Doctor MacHewlett's infection just manifested itself," Doctor Bingen said tightly, without looking up. "He's got teleport capabilities. Get one of those Guardians in the waiting room to track him down. And send me another surgeon and two more nurses. Go!"

The sprite left at a run.

Wayne popped back into existence in midair. "Now what was I doing?" he asked himself. He glanced around himself, looking into fifteenth-floor windows with a puzzled expression. "I'm sure—" he broke off, and his brow furrowed. "Something's wrong. What is it?" His green eyes darted back and forth as he thought.

"Doc!" Davic appeared on the roof of a nearby building. "Wayne!"

"Hm?" Wayne's eyes refocused. "Hello. Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Yes," Davic told him. "I'm the sprite trying to save your ASCII."

"Save me from what?" Wayne asked, standing on empty air.

Davic stared at him for an instant, then said in a milder tone, "Why don't you come down here, and I'll explain."

"Okay," Wayne shrugged. He drifted to the edge of the roof.

Davic grabbed the doctor with one hand, and pulled him in. "That's better," he said with a sigh of relief. "Don't scare me like that, Doc; I thought I was going to have to scrape you off the street."

Caen clicked, then burst into a stream of clicks and whistles.

"I remember you," Wayne said, watching the keytool. His brow furrowed again. "Or do I? I think so. There's something I've forgotten. It's important."

Davic carefully put his hand on Wayne's shoulder, and Caen ran up Davic's arm and created a shoulder harness around Wayne. It sent out a small grappling hook attached to a long line, anchoring Wayne to the roof.

Wayne watched the keytool with recognition flickering on his face. "I've seen one of these before. A long time ago."

"It's a keytool, Wayne. This one's named Caen, and I'm its Guardian. You used to have one like it. Remember?"

"No," Wayne's tone was troubled. "There's something I've forgotten," he said again. "Where was I?" he asked Davic.

"You were doing surgery on Bob's cadet. Remember him? A virus named Megabyte put a whole bunch of interrupts into his head and slave-disked him."

"Virus…" Wayne murmured. His eyes snapped up, and they were wide and purple. "Oh, my—the infection. What have I done?" he demanded. He grabbed Davic by the arms. "Tell me—what have I done?"

Caen whistled harshly, then chattered as it retracted.

"Caen says Copland just got a report—you went green-eyed just as a cascade was triggering. You fried the interrupts then 'ported out. Doctor Bingen's trying to recompile enough of Matrix's code to keep him processing."

Wayne let go of Davic, and sank to the roof. "I've killed him. I've killed the one sprite whose code might have saved the Net."

"He's not dead yet, Doc," Davic said gruffly. "You actually saved his life—you stopped the cascade."

"But I infected him in the process. I must have." Wayne looked at his hands. "As weak as he is, he won't be able to hold off the degradation."

Caen made a few subdued beeps.

Davic nodded, and sat down beside Wayne. "Caen just checked. There's no viral activity in Matrix's code, according to Copland."

"There's probably none in mine, either," Wayne said bitterly. "We can't track this thing, remember?"

Caen hummed something, then expanded its screen and beeped.

"Does that matter?" Davic asked it.

Caen beeped again.

"What is it?" Wayne asked without interest.

"Well, maybe this will make sense to you," Davic said. He held out Caen for Wayne to see.

"What?" Wayne glanced at the data on Caen's screen. "What is this?"

"Caen scanned you just now," Davic said. "It found something. It seems like a pretty small detail, but it thought it might be a clue."

Wayne scanned the display. "This is timing data, what—oh. _Oh."_ He looked up at Davic. "I'm an idiot," he said in disgust. "It's been staring me right in the face—stupid!" he exploded. "If that kid deletes because of this—come on," he commanded. He grabbed Davic by the wrist. "Get me back to that hospital. Now."

"How is he?" Dot asked, her eyes wide.

"Still processing," Mouse answered, dropping to the couch beside Dot. "Just barely." She sank back into the couch cushions and rubbed her face before letting her hair down.

"The interrupts are out," Doctor Bingen replied, sinking wearily into a waiting-room chair. "He's stable."

Sighs of relief followed this statement.

"So Wayne didn't hurt him?" Turbo asked.

Doctor Bingen shot the Prime Guardian a quizzical look. "I'm not sure just what he did, Prime," she said frankly. "What I do know is that one moment, I was losing a patient to a mutating interrupt cascade, and the next, the interrupts were gone and Doctor MacHewlett was talking about chaos. I had my hands full after that."

"Copland, any report from Davic?" Turbo asked his keytool.

Copland beeped, then hummed.

"He _what_?"


	29. Secondary Infection Chapter 29

"Doc, what are you doing?" Davic glanced around the darkened lab.

"Trying to make up for lost time. Hold still." Wayne pressed a code sampler against Davic's upper arm. "Caen, do you have a copy of Davic's filedate?"

Caen beeped.

"That's yes, right?" Wayne glanced at Davic for confirmation.

The keytool burbled.

"It says it's got what you want," Davic said, puzzled. "But what do you need another copy of my filedate for? It's in my code." He gestured at the code sampler in Wayne's hand.

"No, it's not," Wayne contradicted. "At least, not if the infection is what I think it is." He pulled another sampler from the rack and used it on himself. "Caen, I'd like a copy of whatever you have on me and Davic's filedate, please."

Caen clicked, then buzzed.

"It's fine with me, Caen," Davic said. 

Caen beeped, then slipped out of Davic's hand and shot across the room into the download port of an analyzer. It glowed for a moment, humming, then turned a soft blue, recharging itself.

Wayne hurried to the analyzer, and ran his eye over the data Caen had loaded onto the screen. Caen finished its recharge, and returned to Davic. Wayne fumbled with the samplers in his hurry, but he finally managed to get four columns of data lined up on the analyzer's screen. "You little…gotcha," he muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Davic came up beside him and looked first at the lines of code, then at Wayne's intent face. "What?"

"This is the infection," Wayne said, waving at the screen. "You've got it, too."

"What!" Davic stared at the doctor. 

"Don't worry, I don't think it'll manifest in you," Wayne said, his eyes on the displays.

Davic looked at the screen again. "OK, I'll admit it. I don't get it."

Caen buzzed. 

"8-bit yourself," Davic said.

"All right," Wayne murmured. "Here, I'll show you." He touched a few keys on the analyzer, and several strings of code turned red. "Here's Caen's copy of your filedate, followed by your timing data. According to this, you've been online for about 27 minutes."

"Yeah. So?"

Wayne indicated another string of code. "This is the filedate and timing data the sampler just took from you. Notice anything odd?"

Davic looked at the display. "It's longer than what Caen has."

"Right." Wayne touched the screen in a few places. "This, this, and this aren't part of your original source code."

"So they're viral fragments?" Davic shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense, Doc. Caen would have noticed anything viral when it returned to me after Daemon was defeated."

"True, but those aren't viral fragments," Wayne said. "Those are bits of none other than Enzo Matrix."

Davic blinked. "You lost me again."

"Think, Davic. Daemon was a chron virus, right?"

"Right."

"She was programmed to complete her function before a very specific time."

"Yeah--?" 

"What if her time was already past?"

"Huh?"

Wayne sighed. "What's the weakness of a chron virus, Davic?"

"It's on a schedule," Davic answered promptly. "If you can stop it from fulfilling its prerequisites in time, it won't activate. That's first-level stuff."

"Mm-hm. That's how Enzo Matrix beat the infection."

"You want to run that by me again? Nice and slow?"

"Remember what Bob said about Matrix? That he grew up in the Games?"

"Yeah. So he had a weird childhood. What difference does that make?"

"All the difference in the Net, my friend," Wayne answered. "What happens if a sprite spends extended amounts of time in Games?"

"He compiles faster," Davic shrugged. "That's why Guardians get old so fast."

"Right. So Matrix is actually much younger than he looks."

The door to the lab slammed open, and Turbo, Bob, several security sprites, and Doctor Bingen charged into the room. 

"Wayne! Are you all right?" Turbo asked the Net Guardian. "Davic, report."

"What are you doing?" Doctor Bingen cried as she noticed the used samplers on the counter and the files on the screen. "You're carrying a viable infection!"

"So are you," Wayne shot back. "I've finally figured it out. We cured one infection and created another. I can explain all of this." 

The hospital security team fanned out and moved in.

There was loud hissing, and the dim room filled with light as Caen extended itself. 

"You might want to listen to what he has to say," Davic said in a soft, dangerous tone. He swung Caen casually from hand to hand. "He was just getting to the good part."

"What's this about, Wayne?" Turbo asked quietly.

"I found the infection, Turbo. It's been right in front of me the whole time. I just wasn't looking for it in the right place."

"So you can explain your behavior in surgery?" Doctor Bingen asked harshly.

Wayne's cheeks reddened, but he nodded. "Yes, I think I can." He waved toward the screens. "This isn't all of it, but I think I can fill in the gaps."

Doctor Bingen stepped closer to the screens, putting herself within arm's reach of Wayne and Davic. Davic's red eyes narrowed, but he didn't stop the gray-haired doctor as she scanned the data.

"This isn't viral data," Doctor Bingen declared. 

"No, it isn't," Wayne agreed. "But it is evidence of the infection. Take a look at the compilation versus the filedate."

Doctor Bingen shot Wayne a suspicious look, but turned back to the screen. Then her brow furrowed, and she leaned closer. "This can't be right. They don't match."

"Doctor, I'm almost sure that if we take a code sample from Turbo, then ask Copland for its copy of Turbo's timing files, we'll find the same error in him."

Doctor Bingen turned, and folded her arms, leaning on the counter. "Explain."

Wayne looked back at the data. "Daemon's infection forcibly reset her victims' timing algorithms. She had to synchronize every system on the Net to her timetable."

"Because she could only activate once," Turbo murmured.

"Right. A system that wasn't synchronized when her time came would be beyond her power."

"You're saying that what Matrix's cure did was desynchronize the Net?" Bob asked.

"That's what I'm saying."

"But how did he defeat the infection in the first place?" Davic asked. 

Wayne turned to Bob. "How old is Matrix, system time?"

"11, give or take a second or so," Bob answered. "Why?"

"But in terms of compilation, he's nearly twice that age. Right?"

"Right," Bob said. "But--_oh_."

"You see?" Wayne asked excitedly. "As far as his code is concerned, the date is somewhere around ten minutes from now. Daemon's time came and went while Matrix was still a child, subjectively. When Daemon infected him, her code started decompiling him, because it had to move his internal clock _backward_, not forward, in order to synchronize him. It needed to remove more than ten minutes from his timing files."

"But if that's true, why didn't AndrAIa fight off the infection, too?" Bob asked. "Her filedate's close to his."

"She doesn't have a Guardian protocol," Wayne answered. "Daemon's infection mimicked an upgrade. Resetting a sprite's timing files is a fairly common system-maintenance function. Daemon only took over the sprite's mind after the infection had run its course. It's brilliant, really. Ordinary source code didn't recognize the infection as an infection, and once the changes were complete, it was too late." 

"So that's why she took the Collective first," Turbo murmured.

"Because she had to have the Guardian upgrade-authorization codes to get around the protocol's file-protection measures," Wayne finished. "Yes."

"OK, so that's how the infection worked," Davic said. "That still doesn't explain why Bob's cadet was the only one who could beat it."

Wayne tapped a few keys on the console in front of him. "No mystery about that. A Guardian protocol will always take the longer life," he replied, watching data flow across the screens.

"Come again?" Davic said. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. "Game time runs differently than system time, Davic. Clear so far?"

"I'm not stupid, Doc."

"Prove it. What happens when you ReBoot in a Game?"

"I download useful skills and tools," Davic shrugged. "I'm also a viable target for the User."

"And time passes more quickly in Game Sprite mode," Bob said, comprehension dawning on his face.

"Exactly. And when the Game leaves, your icon is reset to normal system mode." Wayne shot all of them a look. "There's an algorithm that runs during every mode change. It compiles the timing data accumulated during the Game, and integrates it into the sprite's source code. Guardian algorithms go a step further and check for damaged or corrupted files during the compile." Wayne grinned. "The infection didn't destroy that algorithm, because it was used to lock in Daemon's moment."

"So when Matrix changed his icon—" Bob started.

"The infection let the algorithm recompile his timing data," Doctor Bingen said. "And Daemon's time was past."

"The infection went dormant." Wayne said. "Matrix was still technically infected at that point, but he wasn't under Daemon's control. He used his Guardian protocol to copy his own recompiled timing files, and desynchronize the Net." 

"OK, so that's how he beat Daemon's infection," Davic interrupted. "But what's that got to do with you running around like a fragmented virus?"

Wayne looked back to his screens. "That's a side effect of the delivery method."

"You mean Hexadecimal?" Bob asked. "She was the carrier virus."

"Yes," Wayne said. "She was a chaos virus, wasn't she?"

Bob nodded.

"It shows," Wayne said ruefully, rubbing the back of his head. 

"Are you saying Hex corrupted the cure?" Bob said. "She wouldn't have done that."

"Whether she meant it to happen or not, strings of her processing code were carried along with the infection programs and Matrix's cure." Wayne sat back in his seat and turned to face Dr. Bingen. "Some got larger sections of viral code than others. That's why it doesn't strike everyone."

"But we didn't find any viral activity in you," Doctor Bingen protested. "Nor do I see any viral data here." She waved at the screen.

"Of course not," Wayne said reasonably. "The traces are over ten minutes old, according to my reset timer. They're all the way back—" he touched a control, scrolling the binary data backward, "—here, where no one would think to look for traces of a recent infection. In my case, it's here--" he pointed at the screen "—and here, meshed in among old versions of Matrix's energy-regulation subroutine and some of my cognitive data from right before Daemon infected me," he finished clinically. "Not too hard to fix, if the patient's in the hands of a good surgeon." He threw a sidelong glance at Doctor Bingen.

"No," she murmured. "A very simple outpatient procedure…" She trailed off, then turned to Wayne. "I could do it right now, if I didn't have one question on my mind. How did you find all this?"

"Caen gave me the last clue," Wayne replied. "It copied my filedate and timing data while I was file-sharing with Davic. It noticed that Davic and I both had a long string of identical timing data. The odds against that happening by sheer coincidence are in the millions. Caen pointed that out, and the rest of it sort of fell into place. I don't know why I didn't see it sooner," he shook his head. "I should have known—Daemon was a time, so she could only be beaten by time."

"No one else would have seen it at all," Turbo told him. "Or even thought to look at simple timing data. Most viruses go straight to the cognition files."

"Speaking of most viruses," Bob put in, "I'm going to go check on Matrix and Dot."

"I'll come with you," Davic said. "This is giving me a headache."


	30. Secondary Infection Chapter 30

"He looks a little better," Dot said hesitantly. She reached up and tried to smooth Matrix's hair out of his eyes. It promptly slid right back. Dot let out a nervous chuckle. "He needs a haircut."

"He always needs a haircut," AndrAIa replied. 

"Just like Dad," Dot murmured. "I used to trim Dad's hair out of his eyes for him every other decacycle. He just didn't notice it unless it got in the way of his experiments."

"Matrix would only care if it got in the way of his aim," AndrAIa said with rueful humor. "He's got a one-track mind."

"I guess it runs in the family," Dot said, giving the Game sprite a sad smile. Then she winced and fingered her still-bruised face. 

"How is he?" Bob asked as he entered the room. Davic hung back, and leaned against the door jamb.

Dot looked up at Bob, then took a deep breath. "The nurses say he's stable, and that's all we can really expect right now. They say he'll wake up when he's ready." She laid one hand on Matrix's arm, carefully avoiding the wires and tubes snaking across her brother's pale green skin.

Glitch quietly slid off of Bob's arm, and folded itself out into a three-legged stool, which Bob placed beside Dot's chair. Bob sat down and gave Dot's free hand a squeeze while exchanging a look with AndrAIa.

"I'll—go update Turbo," Davic mumbled to no one in particular. He left, swinging Caen restlessly.

Mouse was stretched out on the waiting-room couch, her head pillowed on one arm and her hair tumbling loose across her face and shoulders. The tip of her nose was dangerously close to the tip of her unsheathed sword, which lay along the edge of the couch. 

"Should we wake her, sir?" Mr. Christopher asked in an undertone. 

"Nay, lad. She has earned her rest. We will leave a message with one of the nurses after we have visited Mr. Matrix." Captain Capacitor took a few steps down the hallway, his peg leg clicking on the polished floor.

"Capacitor?" Turbo turned the corner with Davic at his heels. "Standing the late watch tonight?" His eyes narrowed a fraction, and there was a slight edge to his tone.

"So it would seem, Guardian," the pirate replied in a deceptively soft voice.

"We're watching you, Capacitor," Davic growled. 

"I would expect no less," Captain Capacitor answered. He turned to Turbo. "It may be of interest to you, Guardian, that the Web Riders opened a Portal to the Web. According to our readings, the worst of the storm has passed."

Copland and Caen both buzzed.

"Thanks for the update, Captain," Turbo said quietly, without looking at his keytool. "I take it you'll be leaving soon?"

Captain Capacitor drew himself up to his full height. "The _Mare_ comes and goes as she chooses."

"She usually "goes" with a gig or two of someone else's property," Davic said darkly.

"Bah!" the captain burst out. "I did not come here to mince words with Guardians. Come, Mr. Christopher." Captain Capacitor rolled his single, narrowed eye up toward Davic as he passed. His accent thick, he growled, "I have not forgotten ye, thief."

Davic returned the growl, and made to follow. 

Turbo grabbed Davic's arm. "Don't," he commanded.

"He's a known pirate," Davic hissed. "We should have arrested him and his entire crew as soon as we hit port."

"Why?"

"_Why?_ Turbo, there are more outstanding warrants on that—"

"I'm keeping my options open, Davic," Turbo said in a low monotone. "Someone's going to have to go after Megabyte. Whoever does is probably going to lose some people. Get the picture?" His brown eyes were grimly intent.

Davic met Turbo's gaze, and his face creased, then cleared. "You think Capacitor…?" He glanced down the hall, though the pirates had already disappeared around a corner.

"He's already promised revenge to Dot. If he changes his mind, I'll haul him in and offer him a deal. If he can offline Megabyte, I'll withdraw the warrants on him and his entire crew. If not…" Turbo shrugged.

Davic stared. "You're starting to scare me, Turbo."

"Good."

Doctor Bingen placed a scanner against one of Matrix's temples, then firmly squeezed his thumb with her other hand. The scanner beeped. 

"Is that good?" Dot asked anxiously.

"It's very good," the doctor confirmed. "There's activity in his brain, and it responds to stimulation." She let go of Matrix's hand and gently lifted the lid of his left eye. The scanner beeped again. "Good," the doctor said again. "There's reaction to light, too."

"So he's going to be fine?" AndrAIa asked.

"That depends on how completely the code recompiles, and how closely the recompiled version matches the original," Doctor Bingen replied. "We filled in most of the gaps in his source code, but the virus rechanneled several of his recognition and action algorithms. Without knowing how they looked before, we couldn't restore them with complete accuracy." 

"So what does that mean?" Dot asked quietly.

Doctor Bingen's face softened, and she sank down onto the end of the bed. "It means your brother will be very confused and clumsy for a while, because his brain has to relearn where things are." She patted Dot's hand. "But with time and help, he should regain most of what he lost."

"He'll have all the help he needs," Bob declared. He put an arm around Dot and exchanged a look with AndrAIa. 

The Game sprite met Bob's eyes and nodded. She took Matrix's hand in hers, and the corners of her mouth lifted into a small smile.

Doctor Bingen strode through the lab door and tossed her data board onto an open section of counter. She nodded to the burly security sprites standing just inside the door, then asked the room's other occupant, "Are you ready?"

"Just about," Wayne answered. He touched a few more keys. "Do you want to do it now or later? I can wait if you need to rest."

"I doubt I could sleep if I knew you were likely to start popping in and out of operating rooms again," Doctor Bingen said dryly. "I'm still not sure it was a good idea to let you prep the code yourself."

"'He who doctors himself has a fool for a physician.'" Wayne quoted with an ironic grin. 

Doctor Bingen returned the smile. "So you'll understand why I want to check every byte of your patch?"

"I'd question your professionalism if you didn't," Wayne replied. He pushed his chair away from the console. "It's all yours, Doctor Bingen."

Doctor Bingen pulled a chair close to the screens and sat down. She glanced over the code displayed on the screen. "Very tidy work," she said approvingly, her eyes darting quickly from one line to the next. "What's this?" Her eyes narrowed as she read. 

"The viral code gave me an idea—" Wayne began.

Doctor Bingen's eyebrows lifted, and she turned to Wayne, folding her arms. "All right," she sighed. "Convince me."

One of the monitors keeping track of Matrix's vital signs beeped, and a line that had been pulsing steadily up and down began jumping higher on the screen. Matrix stirred.

Dot glanced at the dancing line, then grabbed her brother's hand. "He's waking up! Enzo, can you hear me?"

Bob and AndrAIa watched the monitors for an instant, then looked to Matrix's face.

Matrix's eyes opened, and his gaze fell on Dot. He stared at her for a long moment, his left pupil slipping in and out of focus.

"Enzo?" Dot said in a near whisper. "Enzo, it's me, Dot. Your sister. It's all right, you're going to be fine." 

Matrix closed his eyes, then opened them again in a slow blink. His attention fell on Bob this time, and he gasped. He yanked his right hand free of Dot's grip, and his clenched fist slammed backward into the pillow. Matrix grunted, then heaved himself nearly upright before falling back, trembling.

"It's OK, Matrix," Bob said hurriedly. "Megabyte's gone. He can't control you any more."

Whether Matrix heard was anybody's guess. He had curled into a tight ball, shaking so hard the bed squeaked. Soft animal grunts and whines emanated from the big sprite's chest.

"Easy, lover," AndrAIa stroked Matrix's back, then gently began massaging his neck. "We're all here for you."

Matrix let out a sorrowful howl, then abruptly relaxed. The monitors beeped.

"He's out again," Bob said wearily.

"At least he knows we're with him," Dot said. "And we'll be here the next time he wakes up."

"Captain!" Mr. Andrews called across the _Saucy Mare II's _ decks. "We be getting a message from the Web!"

"What? Onscreen, Mr. Andrews!"

A vidwindow popped open. The video transmission was nothing more than black and grey shapes skipping across the screen, but the voice that crackled in and out with the static was recognizable.

"—Ray Tracer. This message _bzt_ the _Saucy Mare_ _bzt_ Mainframe." There was a long, hissing crackle, then, "—wild ride. Storm _bzt _new system. I'm _bzt_ wait three cycles, _bzt_ Mainframe." The transmission ended.

"Pass that message on to Mouse!" Captain Capacitor roared exultantly. "Mr. Andrews, I want an all-systems status report on the double. We're going out to meet the Surfr."

"Sir?" Mr. Christopher asked. "What about the storm, sir? The Web Riders—"

"We've faced high seas before, lad!" Captain Capacitor cried. "There be a friend out there waiting. Ye can stay here with Miss Matrix if ye like, but the _Mare_ is casting off as soon as the lady Mouse is aboard." He lifted his eyebrow at the pasty-faced first mate.

Mr. Christopher swallowed hard. "I'll—I'll stay, sir." 

"Good lad!" Captain Capacitor slapped Mr. Christopher on the back. "Mr. Andrews! Get me those reports!"


	31. Secondary Infection Chapter 31

Bob, Dot, and AndrAIa started taking shifts with Matrix after Bob fell asleep in his seat and toppled onto the bed. The three of them rotated every two micros, two napping on the waiting-room couches while the third sat beside Matrix.

It was either very late or very early, depending on how one counted time, when Dot came in to relieve AndrAIa. 

"How's it going?" the Command.com asked.

"He's been up and down a few times," AndrAIa answered. "He recognized me the last time. He was trying to say my name." She stood up, graceless in her exhausted tension. "I think he's got something to say to me." She pulled the bandanna off of her head and rubbed her eyes. Her earrings jingled.

"I'll bet he does," Dot murmured. 

AndrAIa looked up sharply, but Dot's face showed nothing but lined worry.

"I'll take over now," Dot said. She patted AndrAIa's shoulder. "You go get some sleep."

AndrAIa nodded, and yawned as she left.

Dot settled into the chair beside her brother's bed. "I'm here, little brother," she said. 

Matrix took a deep, sighing breath, and his eyes opened. This time, his eyes focused, and there was distinct recognition in his face. "Dah…Dot." 

Dot leaned closer, her expression bright with hope. "Yes, that's right. It's me, Dot. Your sister."

Matrix sighed again. "Dot," he said, more clearly this time. His eyebrows lowered, and he turned to give his left eye a better view. His left hand lifted, and Matrix's attention shifted. He watched as his hand hung uncertainly in the air for a moment, then lowered back onto the bed. Matrix looked at his right hand, and it obediently flexed, then rose. 

Dot watched Matrix's face as he concentrated, then closed her eyes as her brother's fingers brushed her bruised cheek.

"S-sorry, Dot," Matrix rumbled.

"You remember that?" Dot asked, opening her eyes and meeting Matrix's gaze.

Matrix's hand fell back to the bed as he slowly nodded. "Megabyte," he offered. His speech was improving with every word, though it was still noticeably slurred. "Wanted me to shoot Bob. Shoot you. Shoot everyone." His fingers found their way to his temple, where the black plate had been. "'M gonna shoot Megabyte," he stated.

"Only after I'm through with him, little brother," Dot said firmly. "He's hurt my family for the last time."

Matrix's eyebrows lifted.

Dot's face softened, and she reached to take Matrix's hand. "We almost lost you again, Enzo," she said softly. "If it hadn't been for Doctor MacHewlett's infection, we _would _have lost you. I'm not going to risk that happening ever again."

"Command.com of Mainframe, Dot," Matrix reminded her. "You got work to do."

"I'll step down if I have to." Dot bit her lip. "I can't live with the thought that Megabyte is out there, waiting for another chance to take away the sprites I love." Tears brimmed in her eyes.

Matrix watched, and his eyes slipped out of focus. "Dot?" he asked, his tone uncertain. "Where's Dad? Where is he?" His eyes widened. "Dad!" His cry was that of a frightened boy, and he broke into the unabashed, terrified sobbing of a very young child.

"Enzo?" Dot hurriedly wiped her eyes. "Enzo, what is it?"

"Dad!" 

"What's going on in here?" A nurse hurried into the room.

"He's reliving bad memories," Dot told the nurse. 

The nurse nodded sympathetically, and glanced at the monitors before beginning to gently rearrange bed and patient. "Doctor Bingen said there were going to be a lot of stray signals in his brain, and that would set off some pretty serious nightmares. She doesn't want to give him much more in the way of tranquilizers, because he's been under for so long already, but she authorized something in case he got hysterical…" He pulled the sheet and blanket up around Matrix's shaking shoulders and looked at Dot.

Dot met the nurse's eyes for a long moment. "No, no thanks, the doctor's right. Let's not risk it if we don't have to." She tucked the blanket closer around her brother, then put her hand on his head and stroked his cheek. "Enzo? Enzo, listen. Dad's all right. He's back in Mainframe with Phong." Dot put her arms around Matrix and gathered him in as much as she could. 

"Th' whole city blew up, Dot," Matrix wavered.

Dot ruffled Matrix's hair and reassuringly stroked his back. "Yes, yes, it did, but that was a long time ago. Dad's all right now. Hexadecimal brought him back. Remember?"

"N-no. Yes." Matrix raised his head and looked into his sister's eyes, alarmed. "Whass happning t'me?" His words were thickly slurred.

"You're healing, Enzo," Dot said soothingly. "You were very sick, and now your brain is reorganizing itself. Things are going to be confusing for a while, but Bob and I will be here to help you through it."

"Bob?" Matrix cocked his head and his eyes went distant. He blinked, then a goofy grin spread across his face. "Bob! I remember." His brows furrowed. "Megabyte—" Matrix shook his head. "Bob—I shot Bob. Megabyte—" He broke off. "Where's Bob?" His tone shifted from confusion to near-panic. "No! Bob!"

"Enzo!" Dot bent close to Matrix's face and took hold of his head, gazing into his wide, unseeing eyes. "Enzo, look at me. Bob is fine. He's in the waiting room."

"Bob, look out! It's a trap!" Matrix rolled over, then scrambled for the end of the bed. Dot and the nurse both grabbed for the panicked patient, but Matrix shrugged both of them off and fell out of bed. Several monitors went off, increasing the din. "Bob!" Matrix kicked at the blanket tangled around his legs. "Let go of me! _Frisket!" _ He threw one foot free. He got up on all fours, then reached for the footboard of the bed. His left hand slid out from under him as the nurse grabbed him around the waist. 

"Gun! Return!" Matrix yelled, scrabbling for a purchase on the footboard. His right eye buzzed and clicked, glowing bright red.

"**_Enzo_**!" Dot screamed. 

Matrix froze, then looked up at his tear-streaked sister. "Yeah Dot?" He blinked, his eye fading back to gold. "It happened again," he said, his face twisting in confusion. He shook his head as if to clear it, then turned and looked at the sprite clinging to his waist. "Who're you?" He lost his grip on the footboard and fell, banging his shoulder on the footboard as his gun came zipping into the room.

The nurse managed to get a hand under Matrix's head before it hit the floor. "Easy, there, big guy. You've had enough excitement for one cycle."

Matrix grunted, and rolled over. Dot hurriedly knelt beside him, and supported him as he pushed himself back onto his haunches. He kept both hands on the floor as he gazed at the gun hovering a finger's length from his face. "Maybe you had better keep this for me, Dot," he said unsteadily, his words slow and careful. "I don't think it's safe for me to have it anymore." He eased his weight onto his left shoulder, leaning into Dot, and reached up with his right hand. He closed his fingers around it and said, "Gun. Command line: Shutdown." 

The gun buzzed, then fell silent. Matrix dropped his hand to the floor and lowered his head.

"Portal generator online, Sir!" 

"Engines ready, Sir!"

"Weapons charged, Cap'n!"

"Cast off!" Captain Capacitor bellowed. "Set course for the Edge of Beyond!"

"Not so fast, Capacitor!" Davic zipped over the traffic on the wharf, and dropped to the deck of the _Saucy Mare II_ just as her crew finished coiling the bow line.

"You're a little late, Sugar," Mouse drawled as the ship's engines turned her away from the wharf.

"Have you tired of this system, then?" Captain Capacitor asked, his tone wary. "Or has the Prime Guardian tired of you?"

Davic's eyes narrowed. "Don't push me, Capacitor," he growled. He jumped off his zipboard and pointed to Turbo's ship, which was still securely lashed to the deck. "We both know how much a Guardian ship is worth in certain places."

"Aye, but do you know how much a good friend is worth?" Captain Capacitor asked. "Or have ye not sold one lately?"

Caen buzzed, and began to glow bright red.

"You tell me, _Captain_," Davic hissed. "You were the one who sold me out."

"I have never betrayed my crew, lad." Captain Capacitor's voice was flinty. 

"Excuse me," Mouse interrupted. "But would you boys mind thrashing this out later? Ray won't hang around forever, you know."

"Indeed, dear lady," Captain Capacitor said briskly. "Mr. Andrews, engines on full."

"Aye-aye, sir!" 

The _Mare_'s engines sang.

"Hoist the sails!"

Mouse stood beside Captain Capacitor, watching Davic as the crew scurried to obey orders. The scowling Guardian stalked forward toward the bowsprit, then turned and leaned on the rail, his dark red eyes missing nothing.

"What's got his code in a twist?" Mouse asked the captain.

"That, dear lady, is a story for a longer voyage," Captain Capacitor told her in an undertone. "I'll tell ye this—be wary of that one."

"But he's a Guardian," Mouse protested, casting an appraising look at Davic.

"Guardian or no, he's not one to trust," the captain muttered. 


	32. Secondary Infection Chapter 32

There was a disturbance in the halls. Hospital staff scattered, and loud chirps echoed off the polished floors and squeaky-clean walls. There was also a noticeable thumping.

The intruders strode into the waiting room where Bob, Dot, and Turbo lay sprawled out on the couches. Copland whistled in alarm as one of them reached out and tapped Bob's shoulder. Glitch burbled a reply as its Guardian jerked awake.

Turbo's eyes flew open, and he stared for an instant before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Bob? We seem to have some visitors."

Websong rattled the pictures on the walls, and the three sprites in the room winced.

The Web Riders took a step back as the echoes of their calls died away, then sat carefully down and sang again, more quietly this time.

"Thanks," Bob said absently. 

"What are they saying?" Dot asked as one of the Web Riders launched into a long and complex phrase.

"He's asking for that regeneration file," Turbo translated. "Can you stall them, Bob? I want to make sure no Guardian files are accidentally transferred."

Glitch beeped, then chattered.

"I'm sorry, old friend," Turbo told the keytool. "It's my job."

Glitch clicked, and Copland added a phrase of its own.

"Could you three be quiet for a nano?" Bob asked in a slightly testy tone. "It's hard enough to hear the harmonics indoors without background noise."

Dot's brow furrowed. "What's he talking about?" she murmured to Turbo.

"The subtleties of Websong are encoded by whole phrase," Turbo answered in a low tone as Bob began exchanging high chattering song with the Web Riders. "You can get the basics from the primary tones and the articulation, but if you want to know how someone feels about something, you have to keep track of the tones and stack the phrase up into a complete chord. It takes a good ear to get any of it. I've been studying Websong for nearly ten minutes, and I'm still missing most of what's going on here."

Dot blinked, then looked to Bob, who had dark circles under his eyes and a distinct slump to his shoulders. "It must have been hard for him."

Turbo followed Dot's eyes, and nodded sadly. "Yeah. But he got through it."

"He's been through so much," Dot murmured.

"So have you, ma'am," Turbo said gently. "You and Bob are some of the strongest sprites I've ever met, and believe me, I've known a lot of people."

Dot bit her lip. 

"No," Matrix mumbled in his sleep. "Meh'byte. Lemme go. Lemme go." His arms twitched against the restraining field. 

"Shh," AndrAIa murmured. She stroked the big green sprite's arm, ignoring the electrical hiss as the field adjusted itself to allow her hand freedom. "It's all right, Enzo. Relax. Go back to sleep."

Matrix's mumbling trailed off into incomprehensibility, then ceased. AndrAIa sat back in her chair and resumed her watch, her eyes troubled.

"How's he doing?"

AndrAIa glanced up as Wayne entered the room and took the other visitor's chair. "He doesn't recognize me," she answered softly. "He called me Dot the last time he was awake." She gave Wayne a measuring look. "How are you?"

"Better than I was," Wayne replied. "Doctor Bingen ran every test either one of us could think of."

"She seems like a good doctor," AndrAIa said falteringly.

"She's as good as doctors get," Wayne replied.

"Better than you?"

Wayne met AndrAIa's worried eyes. "In surgery? Yes."

AndrAIa accepted that, then asked tentatively. "Do you remember anything?"

Wayne lifted an eyebrow.

"From when you were—what did you do to Enzo?" AndrAIa asked.

Wayne took a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. "I'm not sure," he answered. He ran his hand over his face. "The infection corrupted my higher memory functions when it went active. I can remember how I felt, and bits and pieces of things I saw, but…" He looked up into AndrAIa's eyes. "I remember the feeling that the interrupts were a minor nuisance, and a moment or two of dizziness when I touched Matrix, but that's about it. Sorry." 

Matrix moved again, tossing his head back and forth on the pillow. "Leggo…leggo," he mumbled. "Won't. No." 

AndrAIa gave Wayne a stricken look. "There must be something else we can do…?"

Wayne glanced over the monitors, and shook his head. His face was weary and sad. "I'm afraid not. Memory configuration is individualized." He ran his hand over his face again, bent his head to rub the back of his neck, then glanced up. Seeing AndrAIa's puzzled expression, he clarified. "Most of a sprite's personality is based on how his or her memory is arranged. For example, I remember Turbo first as my friend, then as my boss. If it were the other way around, I'd treat him differently."

"But they fixed your memory," AndrAIa protested.

"My memory tree was scrambled," Wayne answered patiently. "Scrambled data can be unscrambled. Matrix's tree was completely gone—the virus deleted it, then tied a few of the files back together so that Matrix had enough motor control and cognition to follow the viral directives. Doctor Bingen removed the viral connections, and created a new root directory, but Matrix has to do the rest. And he will." Wayne reached across the restless Matrix and patted AndrAIa's hand. "I know it's hard to believe, but he's past the worst of it. Most of what he needs now is time and friends."

The _Saucy Mare II_ thundered into her Web portal with an escort of armored and very noisy Web Riders. There was no one on board who could translate their ululating cries, but their constant darting forward and back along the ship's sides made their feelings obvious.

"Wonder what's got them so excited," Mouse murmured as she watched the Web Riders on one of the ship's screens.

"They be a strange and excitable lot," Captain Capacitor observed. 

A rising shriek of Websong penetrated the ship's thick shields, then layered into squeals and whines of feedback. The _zing_ of an opening vidwindow was lost in the racket.

The Web Riders abruptly silenced.

"Took you long enough," Ray's vid image said.

Glitch, hovering above the spiky Web armor of one of the Web Riders, beeped. Copland glided silently to Glitch's side, then purred out a series of soft clicks. The mismatched group of sprites in the waiting room listened intently. The Web Riders sat stock-still as first one, then the other keytool zipped around their heads, under their arms, and behind their backs, scanning. The tempo of Glitch and Copland's conversation picked up until it was a continuous blur of sound.

"What are they saying?" Dot whispered to Bob.

"I'm not sure—the transfer rate's faster than I can keep up with," Bob answered. 

The lead Web Rider trilled something, and Bob replied with a short, rising note.

"He just asked me the same question," Bob said with a weary grin.

They sat there and waited while the keytools hummed and clattered. Then the sound abruptly stopped. Glitch buzzed, then returned to its usual perch on Bob's arm. Copland made one last circle around the Web Riders before heading back to its Guardian. 

Turbo watched the data scroll on Copland's screen. The Prime Guardian's eyebrows lowered. "Understood," he told his keytool. "Bob, can you explain to them?"

"It's not impossible, Turbo," Bob protested. "There are some technical problems to work out, but—"

"The entire processing power of a fourth-generation Principle Office, a minimum of four keytools, and enough core energy to delete every sprite in Mainframe two or three times over," Turbo interrupted. "That's no minor technical problem, son."

"But it _is_ possible," Bob insisted. He turned to the Web Riders and launched into a complex melody of swooping trills.

The Web Riders answered, their voices overlapping into minor-key chords.

"They understand," Bob translated. "They want to know if we'd be willing to try it if they found a system that could support the power demands."

Turbo looked into Bob's earnest face, and didn't answer.

Copland beeped, a quiet and meek sound.

Glitch echoed the beep, then clicked.

"Probably," Bob agreed, his eyes on Turbo's face. "That's three."

Copland hummed softly.

"To mend and defend," Turbo murmured.

"It's what we do," Bob said simply.


	33. Secondary Infection Chapter 33

The _Saucy Mare II _rocked in the choppy seas as she plowed back toward the Net. Her instruments scanned the seething Web, but except for the roving Web Riders that were her escort, there were no signs of life.

On board the ship, safely beneath the Web plating, Mouse finally broke off her welcoming kiss to Ray.

"I've missed you, Sugar," the hacker said breathlessly.

"So we noticed," Davic drawled derisively.

Mouse narrowed her eyes at the scowling Guardian, and Ray lifted a questioning eyebrow.

"We are all glad to see you, lad," Captain Capacitor broke in.

"The feeling's mutual," Ray answered. "Once the wave passed, I opened up a Portal and started looking around." He nodded at the screens, where the Web Riders wove and sang across the turbulence. "You're the first processing sprites I've seen since I left Dagobah System."

"Dagobah?" Mr. Christopher asked.

"Little system about sixteen relays from here. The Command.com is some sort of relic who lives in a swamp, but it's better than getting deleted." Ray changed the subject. "Did we lose anyone?"

"That's a long story," Davic interrupted. "What we need to know now is whether or not there's any sign of that virus out there."

"I don't think we've been introduced," Ray said coolly. "Who are you, besides another virus-obsessed Guardian?"

Davic's eyes narrowed to near slits, and Caen buzzed softly. "I'm Davic, Guardian 467, and being obsessed with viruses is part of my job."

"I guess you'll have to find a new job description, then," Ray told him. "Because this is all that's left of Megabyte." He fished something out from under one of his shoulder pads and held it out. Mouse, Captain Capacitor, Davic, and several members of the crew gathered around to look. 

Glinting in Ray's palm was a single, serrated tooth. 

Matrix focused on the spoon in his right hand, watching the green jello on it tremble. "You sure about this stuff?" His hand wobbled dangerously as he spoke, and Matrix's eyebrows lowered as he returned his attention to controlling the spoon.

"Yes," AndrAIa answered. "Eat. You need the energy."

Matrix obeyed, and finished the jello before asking, "How long have I been out?"

"Almost three cycles," AndrAIa said apologetically.

Matrix digested that. "What's happened?" His brows twisted. "Where's Megabyte?"

"We don't know," AndrAIa said slowly. She leaned forward and put her hand on top of Matrix's. "We've had more important things to worry about."

"Megabyte," Matrix murmured, his eyes distant. He shuddered.

"Matrix?" AndrAIa asked. "Enzo, stay with me." She squeezed Matrix's hand. "Listen to my voice, Enzo."

Matrix shook his head, sucked air through his teeth, and grabbed AndrAIa's wrist. "AndrAIa?" His eyes focused on her again. "AndrAIa." He pulled her closer. "AndrAIa. Don't go. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere, Enzo," the Game sprite said soothingly. She put her free hand on Matrix's arm, casually setting her fingernails against his skin.

"Don't leave me alone," Matrix begged. "I need you."

"I had to go, Matrix," AndrAIa told him gently. Her lovely features creased. "I had to think about things on my own for a while."

"You can think right here, with me. You don't have to go," Matrix insisted.

"Yes, I can," AndrAIa agreed.

"Whatever you want, I'll do it," Matrix said, ignoring AndrAIa's words.

"Matrix, come back to me." AndrAIa said. "You're in the past."

"Don't go, AndrAIa," Matrix pleaded. "I love you."

The Web Riders escorting the _Saucy Mare II_ sang, and several of them peeled off, turning their mounts in assorted directions.

"If I didn't know better I'd say that sounded like a requiem," Mouse observed.

"They're looking for something. Survivors, probably," Davic supplied.

"They're going to have to go a long way before they find anything," Ray said. 

Davic's eyes narrowed. "And how are you so sure of that?"

Ray's reply was quietly matter-of-fact. "I felt it in the waves."

"Is that how you find new systems?" Mr. Christopher asked.

"That's one way to do it," Ray answered without looking at the first mate.

"Must be convenient," Davic growled. "Knowing where everyone and everything in the Web is."

"I wouldn't be much of a search engine if I didn't," Ray replied, leaning against the deck rail. 

"Huh," Davic grunted. "I'm watching you, Surfr." He stalked off toward the bow, swinging and slapping Caen like a CPU's nightstick.

"He's giving Matrix a run for his money in the charm department," Ray commented.

Turbo was waiting on the dock when the _Saucy Mare II_ docked. "How soon can you be ready to leave again, Capacitor?"

"The _Mare_ is not at your beck and call, Guardian," the Captain answered from the rail.

"Actually, she is. Copland!" Turbo barked.

Copland beeped a reply, then clicked several times. With each click, a ship's system went down, finally leaving the _Mare_ rocking silently at her moorings.

"Mr. Andrews! What is the meaning of this?" Captain Capacitor roared.

"You didn't think I spent all that time aboard twiddling my thumbs, did you?" Turbo asked.

"Diagnostic controls are offline, and override access is locked, Captain," Mr. Andrews reported. "We can't even tell what he's done, sir."

"You scurvy, treacherous, misprocessed blaggard!" Captain Capacitor bellowed at the Guardian standing on the dock. He drew his sword, and several of the crew standing along the rail leveled hand weapons at the Guardian standing on the dock.

There was a high whine and a _clang_, and the captain's sword went flying across the deck. Caen came to rest with its brightly glowing tip a hair's breadth from Captain Capacitor's eye.

"Go ahead, _captain_," Davic hissed. "Give me another reason." Something brushed his ear, and his eye slid warily sideways.

"Now I'd sure hate to chip a good blade on your thick head," Mouse drawled. The tip of her sword slid gracefully down Davic's jawline, then came to rest with the razor-sharp edge pressing lightly against his throat.

"Stand down, Davic," Turbo ordered softly.

Davic's eyes narrowed to slits, and Caen buzzed angrily. Davic held his stance for a long moment, then withdrew Caen and sidestepped Mouse's sword in one swift motion.

Captain Capacitor straightened his hat, and accepted his sword from the penguin who had retrieved it. "Well now, Guardian," he said in a businesslike tone as the crew relaxed. "Why don't you come aboard so we can discuss the price of your passage?"

"You're in no position to bargain, Capacitor," Davic growled.

"On the contrary," Captain Capacitor said smoothly. "If you had the wit to process a thought you would understand the power I hold."

"We're wasting time," Turbo interrupted. 

"And that is my power," the captain said in satisfaction.

"You won't make much profit trading if there's no one sane enough to trade with left," Turbo told him. "It's in your best interest to work with me instead of against me, Capacitor."

Captain Capacitor stroked his chin. "So it would seem, Guardian. But there is the matter of those outstanding warrants…" He trailed off, and gave Turbo a speculative look.

"Yes, there is," Turbo said blandly. "We can talk about them on our way to the Supercomputer." He lifted his keytool. "Copland, call Bob and tell him to get moving."

Copland beeped.

"There is another matter…" Captain Capacitor began. 

"Yes?" Turbo asked.

The ex-pirate's eye slid toward Davic. "My crew is far more efficient when there are no passengers underfoot," he told the Prime Guardian. "Perhaps you could arrange to keep my decks clear. In the interest of a swift voyage, of course."

"I think I could do that," Turbo agreed. 

"Turbo—" Davic began.

"File it, Davic," Turbo cut him off. "Get below and think about the GIGO law for a while."

"But—"

"That's an order, Guardian." Turbo glared up at the Net Guardian. His lined grey face spoke volumes. Davic met Turbo's eyes for a long moment, then dropped his gaze and stalked toward the hatch.


	34. Secondary Infection Chapter 34

"Megabyte's out there, Dot," Matrix protested as his sister tucked him into bed aboard the _Saucy Mare II_ just a half-microsecond later. "I can see a lot further than anyone else on the ship." He tapped his right cheek with unintended force, and winced.

"The Surfr and the Web Riders will watch for Megabyte, Enzo," Dot told him. A lantern swinging just above her head cast odd shadows across her bruised face. "Remember what Doctor Bingen said—"

"She said I need to get up and move around," Matrix argued. "I have to get some exercise. To get my coordination back."

"I don't think she meant 'go chase viruses through the Web'," Dot said firmly. "Listen, little brother," she said in a gentler tone. "Megabyte isn't the only trouble on our hands right now. We have to get home and plan what we're going to do next. In the meantime, you need to rest up and take things slowly." She bent and gave Matrix a sisterly kiss on the forehead. "Will you promise to at least try to sleep before you go looking for something heavy to lift?"

Matrix sighed. "All right, Sis." He lay back on the narrow bunk. "Wake me up if you see anything."

"I promise," Dot said. She turned and left, her shadow ungainly with the weight of Matrix's gun tucked under her belt.

Alone, Matrix sighed again, and carefully folded his hands behind his head, his eyes aimlessly tracking the shadows back and forth across the ceiling.

"Boring, isn't it?"

Matrix twisted his neck to look at the sprite in the doorway. "What?"

"Being stuck down here." Davic spun a short, stubby Caen across his palm in a few expert circles. "You look an upgrade or two better than you did the last time I saw you," he said as he entered the room.

"If you're not a hallucination, then I am better," Matrix answered.

Davic grinned. "I don't know about you, but if it were me, I'd hallucinate something a lot prettier than me to keep myself company." He swung Caen into the bulkhead with a solid _thwack_, which the keytool noisily protested. He examined the scratch he had made on the hardened wood, then shrugged. "I guess I'm real. Too bad."

Matrix's eyebrows lifted, and his face twitched into a hint of a smile. "So what are you doing down here, if you're not some random piece of my memory?"

Davic scowled, and started swinging Caen through a complex, spinning pattern in the cramped cabin. "The Prime dumped me down here as part of his bargain with Capacitor."

"Bargain?"

"Seems the good captain doesn't like to be reminded of past errors." Davic's stick-work with Caen sped up, and he passed the spinning keytool from hand to hand as he spoke. 

"What's he got against you?"?" Matrix asked.

"Not as much as I've got against him," Davic answered. Caen was now only a blur of light flashing around Davic's swiftly-moving limbs. "The Captain and I go way back," Davic growled. "I know a lot of things he'd rather I didn't." Caen brushed the ceiling, then dropped into a pattern of strikes and jabs almost too quick to distinguish from each other. "Capacitor knew Turbo wanted to get on his good side for tactical reasons. He used that to get me out of the way." Caen chattered as it spun in his hands, then abruptly halted as it slapped into his outstretched palms. "That's why I need you."

"Me? What for?" Matrix's tone was low, and just a bit wary.

"Capacitor's little trick left a little gap in the code up there," Davic said, indicating the ceiling with his eyes. "Someone needs to be up there to watch him and that Surfr guy."

"Ray? You think he's going to sabotage us?"

"I'm not sure he is who he says he is," Davic answered. 

"You think Megabyte…?" Matrix paled a little, then his jaw set and his eyebrows lowered. He deliberately looked up at the ceiling, then slowly turned his head, his right eye clicking softly. "There," he said, staring into what appeared to be a solid wall. "He's out with the Web Riders." He turned back to Davic, and his eyes refocused. "What makes you think Ray's Megabyte?"

"His story is a little too perfect," Davic said. "He _says _he managed to get to a little out-of-the-way system no one's ever heard of just in time to escape getting deleted by the shock wave, and then he pulls out a bit of evidence he just _happened_ to find on his way here. Evidence that _seems_ to prove that our old buddy the Trojan Horse virus got caught in his own trap." Davic shook his head. "I don't buy it, and I don't think Turbo does either, but he's busy watching Capacitor. I'd watch his back for him, but I'm stuck down here."

"So what about Bob? He knows Megabyte and Ray as well as I do," Matrix asked.

"Bob's busy chatting with the Web Riders. They _really_ want that regeneration file he promised them." Davic shook his head. "Look, I know you're still recompiling, but you can track the Surfr without using the scanners, and no one will ask you any questions if you go up on deck and happen to sit where you can hear the comm transmissions."

Matrix looked away again, and his right eye buzzed. "He's out there," he murmured.

"Count on it," Davic said.

The _Saucy Mare II_ bustled with activity. Captain Capacitor bellowed orders to his scurrying crew and frequently interrupted Dot and Turbo's strategy session with his own salty comments. Bob's ongoing conversation with the Web Riders echoed through the Web shielding. AndrAIa, down in the engine room, was running tests on the fuel cells, and her reports to Mr. Andrews sounded over the in-ship comm. It was carefully controlled bedlam; and as far as Wayne MacHewlett was concerned, none of it existed.

Wayne frowned at the screen of color-coded binary code he'd spent the last microsecond tapping out, his purple eyes intent. He touched the display screen, and a section of the code obediently followed his fingertip to a new place in the string. The string changed color, reflecting its new arrangement, and Wayne's frown deepened. 

"That's not right—put it…no," Wayne muttered in an undertone as he worked. "Have to turn it—there…now let's see…only need it once…"

"This seat taken?"

"Hm?" Wayne blinked, and looked up. "Oh, hello. I take it you're feeling better?"

"Some," Matrix agreed. He grabbed an upturned bucket, and sat down on it beside Wayne. "I got bored."

"That's a common problem among injured Guardians," Wayne said. 

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Matrix crossed his ankles and his eyes went distant.

Wayne lifted an eyebrow at the younger sprite, then turned back to his display, muttering a little more quietly as he worked.

"So, what is all that?" Matrix finally asked, his eyes still focused well ahead of the _Mare_'s prow.

"The counter-infection for the Green-Eyed Monster," Wayne answered absently.

"Green-Eyed Monster?" Matrix repeated. 

"It suits the symptoms," Wayne shrugged. "We have to call it something."

"Yeah, but—" Matrix broke off as his eyes widened. "What in the Net—"

A shriek of Websong and feedback hit the ship like a breaking wave, rattling the ship's timbers and deafening everyone aboard for a long moment. 

An electrical squeal rose from belowdecks, then petered out as the lights flickered, went out, then came back up again.

A vidwindow opened before the sound died away to more bearable levels. "We've found something!" Ray cried. "There's something out here, come on!"

"That was him!" Matrix yelled. He scrambled to his feet and pointed. "I saw him! Megabyte! Megabyte's taken control of the Web Riders!"

"_Squeak-thrum-clatter_ alive! It's alive! Something **_purr-twitter_** the blast!" Bob switched back and forth between Websong and standard DOS in his excitement. 

"Mr. Andrews, status!" Captain Capacitor bellowed.

"What did we hit?" Davic demanded as he came up the hatchway.

"Ray, what's happening out there?" Mouse asked.

"He's not Ray, he's Megabyte!" Matrix insisted.

"What did you see, Enzo?" Dot asked tightly.

"…Web only knows how it survived," Ray was saying. "The Web Riders and I can get whoever's in there out, but—"

"Captain!" AndrAIa's voice interrupted on the in-ship com, "That energy wave depolarized our primary power cells—"

"Stay on course, Capacitor!" Turbo vaulted over the poop deck rail and landed on the wing of his ship. "Davic! You're with me." He dropped into the pilot's seat as the canopy opened.

"Belay this!" At Captain Capacitor's roar, the entire ship seemingly froze, with the exception of Turbo, who flipped switches with one hand and fastened his safety straps with the other.

"He's out there," Matrix moaned. "He's out there recruiting a new army. I _saw_ him." He had sunk back to the deck under his sister's hand, and he rocked back and forth, staring wide-eyed past the thick Web shields of the _Saucy Mare II_. 

"Enzo," Dot said quietly, desperately. "Matrix, tell me what you saw."

Matrix's eyes slowly refocused, and he turned to look at his sister. He took a deep breath and held himself still. "I saw Megabyte," he said clearly. "He's out there, Dot." He shuddered, but kept his eyes steady.

Wayne knelt beside the big green sprite. "Look at me, Matrix," he commanded softly. "Someone get me a flashlight," he ordered no one in particular. 

"Doctor?" Dot asked, her brows furrowing.

"What are you doing?" Matrix asked tightly, as Wayne touched his wrist.

"I'm trying to check your process rate," Wayne explained in a matter-of-fact tone. He held Matrix's wrist for a moment, then let go. "Higher than I'd like," he murmured.

"Wayne, does he need 'lifted out?" Turbo asked from his seat.

Wayne accepted a hand-sized flashlight from one of the crew, then shone it into Matrix's left eye for a long moment before answering. "His code is stable for now." 

"So I'm not hallucinating," Matrix said harshly. "That's what you meant, isn't it?"

"That's not what I said," Wayne answered mildly. 

"Let's go below, Enzo," Dot said worriedly. "You need to rest."

Matrix resisted for a moment, then looked at his sister's stricken face, and softened. He allowed Dot to tug him toward the hold.

"Davic and I will go out there and see what the Web Riders have found," Turbo stated. "Captain, open the launch hatch, then get your batteries back online and get out of here."

"Gladly, Guardian," Captain Capacitor grumbled. "And may the Web take ye both," he muttered under his breath.


	35. Secondary Infection Chapter 35

Turbo's little ship lifted off the now-open deck of the _Saucy Mare II_, then gracefully turned and ignited her primary engines. 

"Get a lock on the Surfr's transmission trace," Turbo ordered Davic.

"Aye, sir," Davic answered. There were several soft bleeps, a pair of short, high-pitched beeps, then a _click-ping-hum_.

Turbo grunted. "That's a waste of energy, you know. We're well out of the Web Riders' range."

"I wasn't targeting _them_, sir."

"Suit yourself. You get to get out and push if we run out of power mid-Web."

"I know what I saw, Dot," Matrix told his sister as Wayne patiently scanned the cadet's head. "Davic's right. If Ray isn't Megabyte, then he's under Megabyte's control."

"Davic told you that?" Wayne asked with a frown.

"He said Ray's story is just a little too perfect," Matrix answered, tilting his head under Wayne's gentle pressure. "I could keep an eye on him, so I went up on deck to watch Ray and the Web Riders. Good thing I did, too."

Wayne lowered his scanner and sat down. He looked Matrix steadily in the face and asked, "What did you see? Did the virus shape-shift?"

Matrix shook his head. "I only saw his back, for a moment before the feedback pulse. But I know it was Megabyte."

"What about what you saw identified Megabyte?"

"I've seen Megabyte enough to know him when I see him," Matrix growled.

Dot exchanged a wide-eyed look with Wayne.

Matrix caught the look. "Don't you believe me, Dot?"

"I—I don't know, Enzo," she answered. "After what's happened…" She bit her lip.

"Fine," Matrix snapped. He reached for his sister's hip, and yanked his gun out from under her belt. "I'll take care of it myself." He turned to Wayne. "I'm not crazy. I'm gonna stop Megabyte, once and for all." He aimed the gun at Wayne's chest, and it powered up with a _zing_. Matrix's right eye buzzed, and turned red. "Don't try to stop me."

"I try not to interfere with a Guardian performing his duties," Wayne said coolly. He moved, quickly and with assurance. Matrix yanked his right hand back with a grunt of surprise, then looked up into Wayne's purple eyes.

"I think I've said this once before, but I really don't like it when someone points a gun at me," Wayne said, looking Matrix's weapon over. "Especially a loaded gun. Please don't do it again." His tone indicated more than a simple request. He reversed the gun and offered it to Matrix, butt-first.

"I'll remember that," Matrix said, his eyes narrowing. He holstered his reclaimed gun.

Bob cocked his head, listening to the Websong that wove and crackled around the _Saucy Mare II_'s hull. "They're sorry the noise upset our systems," the Guardian said. "They got pretty excited when they figured out what that energy signature was."

"Hmph," Captain Capacitor grunted. "AndrAIa! Report!"

"We'll have impulse power back in another ten nanos, Captain," AndrAIa's voice responded over the in-ship comm.

"Very well," Captain Capacitor sighed. "Mr. Christopher, make a note in the ship's log. The engineers are to find or design Websails at the first opportunity."

"Yes, sir!" the first mate acknowledged.

"The Web Riders say the packet's in pretty bad shape," Bob said. "The propulsion unit is gone, along with most of the address information. There's not much room inside, but they can hear movement in it. They're trying to get a good scan," Bob reported. "They—that's strange." His eyes widened as he listened. "I take that back—that's impossible."

"What is it, Bob?" Mouse asked, her eyes straying from the long-range scanners. 

Bob shook his head, his attention still on the Websong. "I must have misheard."

"What did you hear, lad?" Captain Capacitor asked.

Bob's brow furrowed. "One of the Web Riders just opened the packet."

"So?" Mouse asked. "They have to open it to get at whoever's inside."

"Not in the open Web," Bob declared. "Never in the open Web. The Web Riders _always_ tow packets somewhere safe before they open them."

"Maybe they opened it up for Turbo," Mouse offered. 

Bob shook his head. "Turbo's still at least twenty nanos out. Wait—" he paused, his eyes searching the roof of Web armor above his head. "Turbo's sped up. He—" Bob paused, a range of expressions crossing his face. Then he let out a slow whistle. "That's a little scary."

"_What's_ a little scary?" Mouse demanded impatiently. 

Bob came back to himself, blinking at Mouse, then glancing at the captain. "Headquarters started upgrading the fleet right after we defeated Daemon," he said, bemused. "Charlie's been busy. Turbo's ship just outran a carrier wave."

"Glory be," the captain breathed.

"Turbo should be beside that packet sometime in the next nano or two," Bob reported.

"Weren't you the one lecturing me about wasting power?" Davic yelled over the shriek of taxed engines.

"This just became an exigent circumstance, Davic!" Turbo bellowed back. "Hang on to your teeth!" He yanked abruptly on one of the control sticks, and the little ship bucked, skidding through the Web on its side.

Davic's answering howl was drowned out by the cry of the engines and the shuddering of the ship as she bounced, then flipped over. With her (upside-down) tail now pointed toward the stranded packet, the wailing engines acted to slow the ship. She rolled upright without a wasted motion, and slid neatly into place beside the tiny Web packet without so much as a bump.

"Some ride," Davic panted.

"Not bad for an old-timer, huh?" Turbo's usual cool delivery ran dangerously close to enthusiasm.

"Sure hope you're not planning to pull that on some poor civilian," Davic commented, regaining his breath. 

"Let's go see how that poor civilian is," Turbo answered. "Suit up, and bring the rescue pod. Copland!"

Turbo's keytool beeped, then plugged itself into a slot beside Turbo's left elbow. After an instant's buzzing, Copland's tiny screen lit up with downloaded data. The keytool pulled away from the slot, dropped back on to Turbo's arm, and folded itself out into neat, overlapping plates that quickly spread up Turbo's arm and across his chest.

Caen beeped.

"Are you saying you can't handle a little extra script?" Davic demanded of it. "Copland seems fine—why don't you ask it for some advice?"

Caen made several high-pitched comments, most of them colorful, then armored Davic in protective scales that might have been just a _little_ bit too tight in places. Davic muttered a few curses as he clambered out of the confines of the cockpit and turned back to fish for the rescue pod.

The Web Riders greeted the Guardians by waving them toward the open hatch of the packet, and trilling a few comments.

"You think we're too late?" Davic asked, as Turbo hesitated.

"Could be. What I don't get is why they opened the pod before we got here," Turbo answered. "It almost feels like they wanted this particular sprite to delete."

Davic's stance changed. "Viral?" he asked.

"Maybe," Turbo answered. "Copland. Scan."

Copland beeped, a mildly strained sound. 

"I know. Give me a ping, old friend. One ping only, please."

The _ping_ of Copland's scan was answered by the harsh sound of something moving within the ruined Web packet. Turbo and Davic stumbled, then fell to near-identical crouches for balance. Something heaved in the darkness beyond the pried-open hatch.

"Dear sweet Programmer," Davic whispered.

The packet's occupant wrenched itself forward. It made a sound that fell somewhere between a croak and a hiss, and advanced a little further into the light streaming in from the hatch. Most of its body was parallel to the floor, doubled over and held so by a wide flap of torn, scarred skin stretched tight between the midsection and what served for a left leg.

Turbo rose, and took a half-step toward the creature in the hatch. "It's—all right. We're Guardians. We're here to help." Moving slowly, his brown eyes wide and watchful, he moved into the darkness of the packet, and put his armored hand on skin thickened by Web scars.

The reaction was immediate. The creature reared up with a scream, and a long, knobby limb twitched back and wound around Turbo's arm from wrist to shoulder. The Prime Guardian gasped, and took an inadvertent step back.

"Boss!" Davic jumped forward.

The Web Riders moaned and chittered.

"Don't!" Turbo ordered, his tone rising just a little bit above its normal register.

Davic froze, and watched, his eyes wide and his stance low and tense.

The Web victim wailed, and twisted its thick body around, bringing its right side into the light. A short, stubby limb groped blindly in the air, then three talon-like digits found Turbo's left leg and latched onto the edges of the plates just above the Prime's knee.

"Turbo…" Davic drew out the last vowel on a rising, warning pitch.

"You might want to get him out of the open," a new voice said.

Davic spun fast. "Where have you been?" he demanded.

"I _was_ coming to meet you halfway," Ray replied. "Then you blokes came by towing a backwash big enough to roll a Web creature. It took me a while to get my bearings sorted out again." 

"How convenient," Davic said sarcastically.

Ray gave him a look that spoke volumes.

The misshapen being clinging to Turbo wailed, and rotated the top of its scar-laden body. Turbo involuntarily sucked in his breath as a single, staring eye fixed on his face, and a triangular gap beneath two black-rimmed holes opened, and let out an earsplitting howl.

"Davic, the rescue pod," Turbo breathed, his eyes a little wild.

"Yeah," Davic said, keeping his eyes on Ray for a long moment. He set the pod's silvery casing down beside Turbo, and spread his hand over its side, touching five well-separated keys simultaneously. The pod beeped, then folded out, doubling, then quadrupling its length and width while building up thin, armored walls. 

Ray, perched on his SurfBaud, drifted a little closer for a better look. "Hm. That's a neat trick."

"Guardian engineers," Davic replied. "They're always coming up with new gizmos for us to use against viruses."

"That one's hardly a viral containment unit," Turbo said, his voice a bit strained. He eased toward the now-deployed and waiting pod. "Help me, both of you."

Ray and Davic exchanged a hard look, then obeyed.


	36. Secondary Infection Chapter 36

Dot stood on the deck and craned her neck to look up the mast.

"He'll be all right, Dot," Bob said, slipping his arms around her from behind.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder and relaxed, letting him support her weight. "He's been up there for nearly a microsecond," she murmured. "I went up, but he wouldn't talk to me. I'm not sure he even knew I was there. He's looking for Megabyte."

"Let him," Bob said. "He knows where we are if he needs us."

"Does he?" Dot asked. She turned in Bob's arms and looked into his face. 

"He's not random, Dot," Bob told her. 

"No, he isn't," Wayne's voice interrupted. "Confused and short-tempered, yes. Random, no." The now-uniformed physician threw a glance toward the crow's nest, where Matrix sat with a scowl on his face and his gun in his fist.

"'Short-tempered' is pretty normal for Matrix," Bob said ruefully. 

"You're sure he'll be all right, Doctor?" Dot asked.

"Give him time," Wayne soothed. "He may look like he's back to normal, but he's still recompiling." A haunted expression flitted across his face, then disappeared. "Viral infection usually leaves scars that don't show up in medical scans."

None of them had anything to say after that.

Turbo rolled his little ship away from the ruined packet, and accelerated far more slowly than he had on the outbound trip. Behind him in the gunner's seat, Davic busied himself with the targeting system. Their passenger, having been bundled into the rescue pod only after significant coaxing and prying of its limbs from Turbo, kept up a constant, unintelligible monologue. The Web Riders escorting the little ship (and a good number of their mounts) hummed and clicked, their songs deeper in pitch and phrased in cascades neither Turbo nor Ray had ever heard before. Ray skimmed along ahead of the ship's nose, silent and steady on his Baud. He followed the traces of the _Saucy Mare II_, which had glided off toward the Supercomputer while Turbo and Davic had been on their mission of mercy.

Turbo laid in his course, and opened the throttle. "Davic, call the _Mare_ and tell them we're coming in. Try to be polite."

"Aye," Davic answered over a soft whimper from the pod behind him. 

The _Saucy Mare II_ opened her launch hatch, and swallowed up Turbo's tiny ship like a Web Creature swallowing a pixel. The hatch closed over them again just as Turbo let his craft touch the deck. Safe beneath the ship's Web armor, Turbo powered down the engines and opened the canopy while Captain Capacitor's crew hurried up from the hold to lash the ship down.

Wayne helped Turbo and Davic unload the rescue pod and its passenger.

"Let's take it below before we open the pod," Turbo said in an undertone.

"Bad?" Wayne asked.

"Really bad," Turbo answered.

"Bring the light closer, please," Wayne murmured as he leaned over his new patient.

Bula obediently swung the lamp toward the head of the bunk, then steadied it as shadows danced across the ruined form. 

"Thank you," Wayne said absently. He ran his scanner across the roughened gray skin, then probed gently here and there, watching the single functioning eye the creature had left for any sign of reaction.

"Still process?" Bula asked.

"Yes." Wayne looked up at Bula. "Do you have any heatsink bottles on board?"

"Yeah," Bula nodded.

"Good. We need ten or twelve of them, hot and wrapped in towels."

"I get!" Bula declared, stumping out of the cabin. A moment later she returned, and set the lantern down beside Wayne. "Sorry," she apologized.

Wayne lifted his eyebrows as the enormous crewwoman left, then turned back to his patient. He pressed into the skin around the base of the left limb, his face intent.

The patient let out a small cry, and the disjointed extremity swung aimlessly, finally finding the source of its discomfort and wrapping tightly around it.

"I'm sorry," Wayne said. His voice was soft and and his tone reassuring. He didn't pull away from the creature's grip, and after a long moment, it relaxed and loosened.

"How is he?" Davic set his shoulder against the door jamb and leaned there, his eyes skipping from the crooked coils draped over Wayne's wrist to the doctor's face.

Wayne looked up, then shook his head a fraction, pointing to the hallway with his eyes. Davic's eyes widened, and he backed out into the hall.

Wayne patted the scarred patient on what should have been its chest, then rose. He made sure the door was firmly closed behind him before addressing Davic.

"It's pretty bad, huh?" Davic said.

Wayne nodded, then lowered his eyes and turned momentarily toward the door. He shook his head. "If we'd found her sooner I might have been able to do something."

"_Her?_" Davic repeated, his eyebrows rising.

"Yes," Wayne said sadly. "What's left of the code indicates that she's a female Game sprite."

"Game sprite?" Davic's eyebrows rose still further.

"It's not unheard-of," Wayne mused. 

"So now the User is playing Games on the Web?" Davic rolled his eyes back toward the ceiling. "That's a new line on my job description."

"Doctor MacHewlett?" Bob, trailed by two Web Riders with their helmets off, made his way down the hatchway. He gestured at the Web Riders. "They're here to see your patient."

Wayne closed his eyes in a slow blink and nodded. 

One of the Web Riders trilled something.

"He wants to know if you can do anything," Bob translated.

Wayne shook his head. "The degradation has progressed too far. The bits and pieces of the code that still function at all aren't enough to withstand surgery." His shoulders slumped. "All I can do is try and make her passing comfortable."

Bob's face was solemn. He turned and began a phrase, but the Web Rider held up one hand, and with a staccato purr, opened the door to the sickroom as Bula reappeared at the end of the hall loaded down with the squishy heatsink bottles.

"He said the look on your face was enough," Bob said quietly as Bula squeezed into the cabin behind the second Web Rider. "They'll stay with her."

A soft thrumming began to emanate from the cabin. It remained low, but as it continued, it penetrated the walls and timbers of the ship, until the _Mare_ herself seemed to call through the rumbling purr of her engines and to keep time with the pitch and roll of her decks.

"What in the name of the Source Code is that?" Davic asked, his eyes wide.

"The Web Riders," Bob explained in an awed tone. "They always sing to comfort the newly-lost." He listened for a long moment, then added, "They've combined a parting song with it."

"It's lovely," Wayne said in wonder. "I've never heard anything like it before."

The Web Riders' music was abruptly overlaid by chattering and a few squeals from Glitch and Caen.

Davic's eyes snapped back into focus. "Caen, what…?" His expression of faint annoyance at the interruption quickly faded as Turbo's voice came on the com.

"Davic, Bob, see if you can pull Wayne away from his patient and get up here. Now." 


	37. Secondary Infection Chapter 37

Wayne ran up the steps after Bob and Davic, both of whose keytools were chattering in high, staccato contrast to the long, slow notes rolling through the _Saucy Mare II_ from below and outside.

"What—are they so upset about?" Wayne panted, a bit winded from the run.

"Not sure," Davic threw back over his shoulder as he took the steps to the poop deck three at a time. "Something about the infection in the Supercomputer."

"Wayne!" Turbo called from the poop deck above. "Tell me you've got that patch file ready to go."

Wayne shook his head, and let himself slow down as he climbed the last few steps. "Get me to my lab, and I'll have it finished in three cycles."

"We haven't got three cycles, Wayne," Turbo said tightly. "And getting to the Ward's going to be a problem." Turbo's gaze shifted, and Wayne followed the Prime's eyes. The doctor blinked, then looked again.

Copland was in its accustomed place on Turbo's left gauntlet. Perched on the Prime Guardian's other wrist was a second keytool, this one a green-gold box with no screen.

Turbo lifted his right arm. "This is Isa. It's an unaffiliated keytool."

"Unaffiliated?" Davic looked at the featureless green box. "What's it doing here, then?"

Copland clicked, and Caen replied, then launched into a long progression of squeals and clicks. 

Bob's face drained of color.

"Whoa," Davic breathed.

"Would one of you translate, please?" Wayne asked, his tone only a _little_ impatient.

"We're in trouble, Doc," Davic said. 

"The infection has mutated somehow," Turbo said. "It's not just affecting a few sprites anymore."

"And...?"

"The keytools are running the Supercomputer," Bob said heavily. "Everyone else has gone random, and they're dying."

"The Guardian keytools called in the unaffiliated ones for help," Turbo explained. "They sent Isa to warn us."

"An entire system..." Wayne rocked on his heels, then rubbed his face with both hands. "An entire system of Green-Eyed Monsters." 

"We need a patch file, old friend," Turbo said frankly.

Wayne shook his head. "We don't need a patch file." He looked up and into Turbo's eyes. "We need a miracle."

Dot began giving orders as soon as the _Saucy Mare II_ dropped into Mainframe. "Specky, call out every EMT in the system and get them into Briefing Room two. Phong, we're going to need a code sequencer and an intensive care unit online. Dad, how are you and Enzo?"

"Everything's fine, Dot," the null-sprite answered. "How are you? We've been so worried. Where's your brother?"

"Matrix is up in the crow's nest," Dot said quickly. She dropped her eyes. "He's—he's hurt, Dad. Megabyte almost killed him."

The elder Matrix was silent for a moment. "And where is Megabyte?" There was a hint of steel behind the words.

"We don't know," Dot admitted. "I'll explain when we get there, Dad."

"Hold _still_, Davic," Wayne said in an exasperated tone.

"Speed it up, Doc. Every nano we wait is someone else offline." Davic drummed the fingers of his free hand on the biobed.

Wayne's jaw tightened. "I know that as well as you do. So in the interest of saving as many sprites as possible, shut up and hold still!" He lined up the insertion point yet again and went back to work.

Turbo stuck his head into the room. "How's it coming?"

"It would go a lot faster without interruptions," Wayne answered testily.

"Don't get your code in a twist, Wayne," Turbo told him. "Dot's mobilizing all of Mainframe. You should have all the help you need in less than half a microsecond."

Wayne hit a few more keys, and the insertion point pressed against Davic's ribs hummed, then glowed bright blue. 

"There," Wayne said. "You're done. Now remember, if a Game drops—"

"Run. I heard you the first three times, Doc."

"It bears repeating. Write protection will prevent the infection, but it will also prevent you from ReBooting."

"And a Game would nullify me on contact. I'm not stupid, Doc."

"No, you're a Guardian," Wayne shot back. He shut down his equipment and sighed. "Look, kid, just try to come back in one piece, OK?" He clapped one hand on Davic's bare shoulder and met his eyes for a long moment, then jerked his head at Turbo, who was still standing in the doorway. "And keep him out of trouble, if you can."

Davic grinned. "You got it, Doc." He reclaimed his icon and Caen from the tray beside the biobed, and clicked back into uniform. "Ready to go, boss?"

"Yeah. Let's do it before the infection finds a way around write protection. Copland! Scan for a class five Tear."

"Caen can take care of it," Davic protested.

"I'd rather save Caen's power for an emergency," Turbo answered. "Here." He tossed Davic a stowed zipboard. "You remember how to fly one of those?"

"In rings around you, old-timer," Davic answered, hooking the zipboard to his belt. "I still think we should take that Riot Wing of yours."

"We won't need it, Davic. This is a search and retrieve mission, not a frontal assault."

"A little extra firepower never hurts, though," Davic said darkly.

"These are plague victims, not invaders," Turbo told him in a severe tone. "They're sick, not evil."

"Sick sprite with viral powers can kill you just as dead as a healthy viral," Davic muttered.

The _Saucy Mare II_ rocked gently against her mooring lines, her engines silent and most of her crew away on shore leave. The ship was not quite abandoned, however. A lithe, barefoot figure clung to the rigging, working its way up toward the crow's nest.

Matrix acknowledged AndrAIa's arrival on the tiny platform with a slow shift of his eyes from the horizon to the Game sprite and back.

AndrAIa sat down in the little space left on the platform, and leaned back against the bulwark that ran around the edges of the crow's nest. "There's no place like home," she said with a contented sigh.

Matrix grunted. 

AndrAIa looked at him, then said, "Can we talk?"

"You said there was no 'we'," Matrix growled. "There's only me. And I got nothing to talk about."

"There wasn't a 'we' because I didn't know where you ended and I began," AndrAIa said. 

Matrix closed his eyes, and a muscle along his jaw jumped.

AndrAIa slowly reached up and stroked Matrix's cheek. 

"Don't!" Matrix bit out. A tear escaped his eye. "Don't," he said again, in quiet desperation.

"Then talk to me, Enzo," AndrAIa pleaded.

Matrix suddenly jerked into motion. He scrambled around the mast, set his back against the far bulwark, and aimed his gun between his up-bent knees at the Game sprite. "Dead sprite's trigger at point-blank range," he told her, his voice shaking almost as hard as his hands. "Magnetic shrapnel rounds. Eat holes right through Web armor." The muzzle of the gun jerked alarmingly across AndrAIa's face.

"Enzo, it's all right," AndrAIa said gently, her fine brow wrinkling. "You're safe. We're in Mainframe. I'm your friend."

"Don't know that," Matrix answered. "Not for sure. Can't be sure of anything."

"I love you," AndrAIa said firmly. "I'm sure enough of that for both of us."

"No!" Matrix's fingers slipped on the butt of the gun. "There is no 'we'! Leave me alone!" He took a deep breath, visibly controlled his breathing, and looked down the barrel of the gun into AndrAIa's eyes. "Safer alone."

"Apart from Megabyte, you mean," AndrAIa said. "He took over your mind and locked you away in your own head."

"You left me," Matrix accused. 

"I had to," AndrAIa replied simply.

"I loved you," Matrix said. Every muscle along his arms stood out.

"I know," AndrAIa told him. "That was why I had to go away. There were some decisions I had to make alone."

"There can be only one," Matrix told her. "Only one I can trust. I'm safer alone."

"No," AndrAIa said. "You're not. Think about it, Enzo. Megabyte—" 

"Megabyte—" Matrix shook his shaggy head. "Wouldn't stop. I _saw_." 

"But you couldn't act," AndrAIa finished. "He was stronger than you were."

"Safer alone."

"Stronger together," AndrAIa countered. "Megabyte tried to use you to destroy everything you love and he hates. He was stronger than you—but his plan failed. You know why? Because he's not stronger than all of us. We work together. We fight together." She reached carefully across the gap between them. "And we'll beat him—together." 

"No." Matrix looked up and leveled his gun at her again. "It's not real. There's only me. Alone."

AndrAIa sat back. "All right," she said. "I'm going back down to the engine room." Her eyes were wide and sad as she slid toward the rigging. "I'm sorry, Enzo." She disappeared down the rigging.

Matrix kept his gun trained on the spot where AndrAIa had been until the rigging stopped moving and there was no sound except the creaking of the ship's timbers. Then he let out an explosive breath and relaxed all at once, the gun slipping out of his nerveless fingers unnoticed. He leaned back against the bulwark and closed his eyes, taking huge slow breaths and letting them out. 

A Portal opened above the Academy training field, and two pairs of Guardian boots landed on the grass almost simultaneously. Caen closed the Portal and dropped into Davic's hand, clicking softly.

"Looks pretty quiet," Davic offered, sweeping the grounds with his alert eyes.

"Yeah. Too quiet." Turbo's eyes were moving, too. "Let's move." He jogged off toward the Ward with Davic loping beside him.


	38. Secondary Infection Chapter 38

Wayne watched the scanner readings above his patient's head fluctuate, then patted the Web victim's stumpy right arm. Nodding to the Web Riders who had remained by the stricken sprite through the transfer into Mainframe's infirmary, the doctor rose and padded noiselessly across the room, where an obsolete sequencer and a retired Command.com waited patiently.

"How is she?" Phong asked in his soft, age-hoarsened voice.

"Dying," Wayne said frankly. He dropped into the chair in front of the sequencer. "And there's not a thing I can do about it."

Phong steepled his long, delicate fingers and bowed his head. 

Wayne rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, then swept his hand down his face. He stared at the sequencer's dark screen for a long moment, then took a deep breath and activated the bulky machine. "Let's see what we can get done before Turbo and Davic get back. You said you had a scan of the carrier virus?"

Phong wordlessly opened his drawer, and took out a data pad.

"Good. Now all we need is a few thousand lines of code and a lot of Guardian luck."

There were odd noises echoing down the halls of the Ward. Running feet and chattering voices were the normal sounds of a major hospital. Deranged cackling, drunken singing, and thunderous _booms_ were not. Davic and Turbo slipped in through the loading-dock doors, which were wide open, and ducked into a storage room Copland indicated was unoccupied.

Davic's eyebrows lifted as he took in the noise. "Sounds like they're having a good time. Yike!" He jumped back as a bedraggled but grinning sprite stumbled through the wall. 

"Oh, hello. Are you looking for something? Ask me, I've probably found it. Though I don't know where it is," she said, her smile becoming a frown. She waved her hand distractedly, coming within a hair's-breadth of hitting Turbo on the nose. Since there was a squealing Null in her hand, the Prime prudently ducked. The infectee turned and looked at Turbo in surprise. "Oh! Where did you come from? Would you like to meet my friend? This is Pookie." She held the Null out toward Turbo.

"Very nice," Turbo said awkwardly. "We really have to be going, though."

"Going? Where?" The green-eyed sprite looked troubled, then shrugged and took Turbo's arm with her free hand. "I guess it doesn't matter. Here is all right as long as it's someplace else." She turned and caught sight of Davic again. "Oh! There you are. I thought you had gone. Did you go someplace interesting?"

"This sounds like Philosophical Theory class," Davic muttered. "Caen, would you—"

"Belay that, Caen," Turbo said. He carefully extricated himself from the grip of the infected sprite. "Maybe we can go somewhere another time."

"Or perhaps just stay right here," the sprite said agreeably. "I'm not picky, as long as it's somewhere where I'm not." She faded, then disappeared with a teeth-rattling _boom_ and a puff of acrid black smoke.

"You know, I used to think viruses walking through walls were scary," Davic said. "But seeing the Doc and now that kid do it—that's enough to make your hair stand on end."

"Because she's getting closer to deletion every time she does it," Turbo said. "Not to mention what that Null is probably drawing from her."

Davic shuddered. "I hope the Doc's right about write-protection."

"He is. Otherwise he'd have knocked us both cold and relieved me of duty." Turbo opened the door and threw a quick glance up and down the hallway.

"I didn't know he was on the chain of command," Davic said, slipping out into the hall.

"Son, if things get much worse _you're_ going to be next in the chain of command."

"Is that supposed to be motivational?"

"Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hi!" Argus bellowed, grinning maniacally and jumping up and down, apparently unconcerned by the tattered bandage flapping off his very swollen ankle. He stopped, his green eyes disapproving. "It's your line," he said, frowning.

"I'm real sorry, Argus," Turbo sighed. "Copland."

The keytool beeped, then sent a dull red ball of light at Argus's foot.

"Hey! That hurts!" Argus bounced backward, away from the threatening ball. Copland buzzed, and the ball rolled across Argus's bare toes, singeing what remained of the bandages. "That _really_ hurts," Argus growled. "I just wanted to have some fun." His right hand curled into a fist, and he pounded it into his left palm. "Let's play another game." He leaped.

A cloud of black smoke erupted between Argus and Turbo. There were several thumps and a squeal from a keytool.

"Boss!" Davic yelled, peering into the smoke.

"I win I win!" cried a happy feminine voice. "I've got _two_ of them down!" Geri blinked as the fog of her arrival cleared. She sat rather precariously on Argus's shoulder blades. Beneath Argus, Turbo's eyes were half-focused as he tried to regain the wind Argus's charge had knocked out of him.

Davic kept his eyes on Geri as he bent to offer Turbo a hand. Geri beamed at him. Argus, however, was down but certainly not out. His long arm shot out and grabbed Davic's ankle and yanked. The Guardian would have kept his feet, if it hadn't been for Geri's triumphant grab. She grabbed his outstretched wrist and twisted. Davic followed the pull, shoved Geri backward, and nearly regained his balance before Geri swept him off his feet with a fast sweep of one leg.

"That's three!" Geri crowed.

"Not for long," Turbo growled. He heaved, and dumped Argus and Geri into the wall.

"_Nobody_ attacks me and gets away with it!" Argus cried. Since Geri was within reach, he threw a punch toward her.

Geri's hand came up, and caught Argus's wrist. "I attack anyone I want!"

Davic rose, and watched the two infected instructors wrestle. "The infection doesn't seem to have affected those two much," he commented. He stepped carefully around the struggling pair. 

"Some things never change," Turbo agreed. "Let's get out of their reach before they decide to gang up on us."

"Good idea."

"That's what I'm paid for."

"You get _paid?_"


	39. Secondary Infection Chapter 39

Wayne glanced at the clock. "Crashes. Where _are_ they?"

"Time passes slowly for the one who waits, but cycles are nanos to one who works," Phong said sagely. He stretched his neck to peer over the readouts of the compiler. "Ah—yes. I believe we are ready."

"Good. Transferring data." Wayne hit a few keys on the sequencer.

The compiler thrummed, then began a steady clanking under Phong's watchful eye.

"What's the estimate?" Wayne asked.

"If Turbo and Davic do not bring us a more advanced compile command, it will be…" Phong set his fingertips together and lowered his head for a moment. "Forty-eight microseconds."

Wayne paled. "Two cycles?" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Two cycles." He sat up straight and opened a vidwindow. "Dot? How's the perimeter effort going?"

"Better than we expected," the Command.com answered. "Bob's locked down nearly every system with ports to the Supercomputer. Mouse and Ray are moving our medical teams into position in the Net."

"Good." Wayne sighed. "Any word from Turbo?"

"Not yet," Dot answered.

The infectees had not spared the lab. Broken bits of glass, plastic, and metal lay scattered among puddles of what were possibly hazardous substances. Turbo and Davic moved carefully in the mess.

"This is weird," Davic muttered as he opened drawers and cabinets.

"It took you this long to notice?" Turbo asked, without a glance at Davic. He watched the door as Davic worked.

"No, I mean this," Davic pulled a carryall out of a cabinet. "It's sort of a robbery, because we don't want to get caught, but we're not really stealing, because we're not going to fence it, and it's Collective property anyway."

"You got a problem with that?"

Davic made a face. "No good honest criminal would touch this job."

"If it'll make you feel better, I'll arrest you myself later," Turbo said dryly.

Davic grinned and opened another cabinet. "You'll have to catch me first, boss."

"Anybody hungry?" Bob entered Mainframe's infirmary with a tray balanced on one hand and a napkin over the other arm. "It's the nightly special from Dot's." 

Wayne was slow to take his eyes off the slowly ticking numbers on the compiler. His stomach, however, gurgled noisily enough to be heard above the machine's thrum. "I guess I could take a break," he said ruefully.

"The wisdom of the body feeds the wisdom of the mind," Phong said. He picked up a plate. "Perhaps our other guests would care to join us?"

"I'll ask," Bob said. He hummed, then burbled a quick phrase.

The Web Riders beside the bed of the dying sprite turned, then one of them came across the room to claim two plates. The Rider bowed, a movement curiously graceful for such a misshapen creature, then returned to the bedside. They talked in soft, low counterpoint while they ate.

"What are they saying?" Phong asked, his eyes bright with curiosity.

"They're enjoying the food," Bob answered. 

Glitch, muffled under the napkin, clicked.

"Didn't you already—?"

Glitch rattled.

Bob's brows knitted. "If you think it'll help. But—"

Glitch beeped, then rose off of Bob's gauntlet, taking the napkin with it. It zipped out from under the napkin and across the room, then settled with deliberate care onto the Web victim.

"What the—" Wayne half-rose from his chair, gripping his fork.

"It's all right, Doctor," Bob said hastily.

Glitch thrummed, and sent a cable snaking into a power socket. The dying sprite beneath it whimpered.

One of the Web Riders turned, and purred something at Bob.

Bob replied in what could only be called a reassuring tone.

"What's it doing?" Wayne asked, still half-crouched.

"Call it supportive care," Bob answered. "Glitch is going to try to maintain her until we have enough keytools in the system to run the recompiling program."

"Enough keytools?" Phong asked. "In my experience, _one_ keytool is quite enough."

"You mean one Guardian is enough," Wayne commented. "We have a saying at the Academy: 'One Guardian can cause more trouble in a microsecond than the User does in a second.'"

"Very funny," Bob said. He gestured at the compiler. "So, how's it going?"

"Too slow," Wayne answered. He glanced at the compiler again. "It's all too slow." He stabbed his fork into the daily special with unnecessary force. "Even if the patch file were ready now, we couldn't spread it fast enough to save everyone."

"I've put out a 10-34 call through Guardian channels," Bob said. "We'll have more Guardians here soon."

"Adding sticks to our bundle increases our strength," Phong said.

"A few more lives," Wayne murmured. "Not enough, not enough. Not even the entire Collective could move fast enough."

"What if we loaded the patch file onto the Mainframe medics?" Bob suggested. "That would expand the vector pool."

Wayne shot the Guardian a look, then sighed and shoved his forkful into his mouth without answering.

"When it is finished, the patch file will be very large and complex," Phong explained apologetically. "To download it to an ordinary binome PID, we would have to erase the entire file already contained on it."

Bob's face fell. "Oh."

"Not to mention the file-integrity overrides," Wayne added. "Pop quiz, Guardian: Name the three formats that can alter a PID against the wearer's wishes."

"Command, Guardian, and virus," Bob answered promptly. "But what if we attached the overrides to the sprite patch? Then we'd have civilian vectors—"

"Leading to a geometric-progression routine," Wayne finished. "That's what's compiling now." He kicked his chair toward a console and tapped in some commands one-handed. "I've been working the numbers for microseconds, Bob. Assuming that Turbo and Davic Portaled in within the next five nanos with the compiler from my lab intact, every Guardian in the Net showed up to help carry the patch file, that every victim has eaten something in the last two cycles, and the upgraded version of the infection has no re-infection capabilities" keys clicked and displays flashed as Wayne's fingers flew, "—this is the most optimistic estimate of the deletion loss."

Bob read the numbers on the screen. "seventy-two percent," he murmured in a tone of soft horror. "We'd lose seventy-two percent. Every sector in the Supercomputer will crash."

"We've got to find a way to move it faster," Wayne growled. "There has to be a way." Desperation cracked into a grin on his face. "You don't happen to have another tame virus in this crazy little system of yours, do you?"

"Hex was never exactly 'tame'," Bob said. "She played with innocent lives the way Frisket plays with Nulls."

"Hexadecimal's insanity was preferable to her brother's lust for power," Phong stated. 

Wayne's eyebrows shot up. "Her brother?"

"Hexadecimal and Megabyte were of the same viral strain," Phong explained.

With a forgotten mouthful of food bulging in one cheek, Wayne looked first at the aged Command.com, then at the system's Guardian.

Bob lifted an eyebrow. "Doctor? Are you all right?" he asked warily.

Wayne blinked, then swallowed what was in his mouth. "Why wasn't I told this?"

"Told what? That Megabyte and Hex were brother and sister?" Bob's eyebrows furrowed, and he exchanged a worried glance with Phong.

"Yes." Wayne threw down his fork and turned to the console, his eyes darting swiftly back and forth. He ran his hand over his head, then started tapping keys.

"It—didn't seem important," Bob said slowly, watching the doctor clear the glum prediction from the screen.

"It's more than important," Wayne told him without looking away from the screen. "You've just given us a chance to save the Supercomputer. A slim chance, but a chance." His fingers were dancing across the keypad, apparently completely independent of the bright eyes watching algorithms leap into life on the screen. "Get that cadet of yours down here, Bob. We're going to need him."

"He wants _what?!"_ Dot demanded, the outrage clear in her tone. 

"He wants Matrix to find Megabyte," Bob answered wearily. "He says it's the only chance we have to save the Supercomputer." He sank into a chair. "Matrix won't let me get near him, but he might listen to you."

"He's not listening to _anyone_," Specky said. "He blew up Dr. Matrix's exosuit and turned the entire port into a no-fly zone."

"Tell the doctor to find another way," Dot ordered. She turned back to the command room's central console.

"We tried, my child," Phong said unhappily. "But Doctor MacHewlett said—"

"He's my _brother!"_ Dot snapped. She glared at the retired Command.com and the Guardian. "He almost lost his life a few cycles ago, and he may have lost his mind." Her voice rose, and tears filled her snapping purple eyes. "I won't let anyone ask any more of him."

"What's he want Megabyte for?" Mouse asked. 

"Because we need something that can spread the patch file to an entire system in less than a cycle," Wayne answered, coming through the door with a handful of data pads. 

"I think you've forgotten one little detail, sugar," Mouse drawled. "Megabyte hates us. He's been trying to destroy the entire Net for minutes. No way he's gonna help us disinfect the Supercomputer."

"Megabyte isn't the one whose cooperation we need. He's just the source code." Wayne said. "It's Matrix I've got to convince."

Several of Dot's staff gasped.

"Is that what you want Matrix for? To turn him into a virus?" Dot demanded. She grabbed Wayne with one hand and the pistol on her hip with the other. "Because if it is, you'd better change your mind, right now."

"Don't be ridiculous," Wayne told her in an icy tone. "That would go against every byte of my ethical code."

"_Primum non nocere,"_ Phong murmured. At Bob's puzzled look, the old sprite translated. "'First, do no harm'. It is the first tenet of a physician's format."

"The first and the strongest," Wayne confirmed. "Let go of me, Dot Matrix." He abruptly sounded tired, as though he had simply run out of emotion.

Dot, wide-eyed, released her hold, and Wayne put one hand to the console to steady himself.

"I'm not trying to torture you or your family, Dot," Wayne said, dropping all formality as he sagged. "I'm just out of other ideas."

"What is your idea, exactly?" Dot asked warily.

"I need a virus," Wayne said flatly. "The only one I'm aware of who may still be processing is Megabyte."

"But Megabyte was deleted in the Web," Bob pointed out. 

"We're not certain of that," Wayne countered. "For all of our sakes, let's hope Matrix was right, that Megabyte is out there somewhere."

"That's the first time I've ever heard anyone wish a virus good health," Bob observed.

"There is a first time for everything, my son," Phong said with a trace of humor.

"So you're looking for Megabyte," Mouse said to Wayne. "Why does Matrix have to do the huntin'?" Mouse asked, sidling gently around the console toward Dot. "There's a long list of sprites who'd like to get their hands on that virus."

"Because no one can get their hands on Megabyte if we can't spot him," Wayne answered. 

"Wayne thinks he can use the fragments of Hexadecimal's code to find Megabyte," Bob said. 

"Actually, I'm using the fragments to make some educated guesses," Wayne temporized. "I should be able to construct a signature filter within the next few microseconds."

"Signature filter?" Dot asked. "Glitch can track a programming signature."

"Yeah," Mouse joined in. "That's how keytools identify you."

"Exactly," Wayne said. He sat down on the console. "Keytools don't process sensory data the way sprites do, but the way a Trojan Horse virus works fools both. When Megabyte steals a form, he copies the victim's metatags, then rearranges his internal codes to fit. Sprites see the new skin created by the metatags. Keytools scan for a match between the metatags and the internal structure. Neither recognizes the virus." 

"And you think Enzo can get around that," Dot said.

Wayne nodded. "Matrix has multiphasic recognition algorithms." He glanced at the blank expressions around the room, and clarified. "He can process multiple layers of visual input at once. Once Matrix downloads my cross-referencing and reconstruction routines, he can scan a sprite's internal structure for fragments of metatags hidden in the code. The filter will use Hexadecimal's programming logic as a template to test for similar tag structures, and fill in gaps. Matrix's ordinary sprite code will arrange those tags into a logical structure, then turn it over to his facial-recognition algorithms. To put it simply—he'll be able to see the virus no matter whose face Megabyte's wearing."

Dot shook her head. "But to face Megabyte again…"

"It might be good for him," Wayne said. "To know that Megabyte can't hide from him might alleviate his paranoia." His face softened. "Ms. Matrix, please. I know what I'm asking. I also know the cost of not asking it. If we had the entire Guardian Collective in the Supercomputer with a compiled patch file right now, we'd still lose over half the population of the system." His eyes were bleak. "I'm trying to hedge our bets. We'll compile that patch, and send every sprite who can carry it into the Net and the Supercomputer. If we can catch Megabyte in time, we may be able to keep the Supercomputer online. If not," he sighed. "If not, we'll have to evacuate everyone who's sane, before…"

"Before the whole system crashes," Bob finished in a sickened tone. 


	40. Secondary Infection Chapter 40

Turbo and Davic stepped through the Portal directly into the infirmary. 

"Here's your compile command, Doc," Davic said, opening the duffel.

"Finally." Wayne lifted the compiler out of Davic's hands.

"You're welcome," Davic drawled. He glanced at the Mainframe compiler, which was still chugging noisily. "Glad I didn't have to try to lift _that_ thing. What version is it, .01?"

"1.3, actually," Phong said, mildly affronted.

"Thank the User for miniaturization, then," Davic said. 

"What's our situation?" Turbo asked. He lifted an eyebrow at Bob. "I assume the lockdown is complete?"

"Yes," Bob answered. "All of the medical teams are in position, too."

"Anyone hear your emergency call?" Turbo asked.

"We'll have twelve more Guardians here in three microseconds," Bob assured him. "Most of them are coming from nodes that weren't online before Daemon's infection."

"Long way out," Turbo murmured.

Wayne finished hooking up the new compiler. "Transferring—now." 

Silence fell as the compilers buzzed and rattled. 

"New estimate—two microseconds," Wayne sighed.

"Give me some numbers, Wayne," Turbo said quietly.

"Right now—" Wayne turned to the console. "Call it eighty-five percent."

"We're going to lose fifteen percent of the Supercomputer?" Davic's eyes went wide.

"No," Wayne corrected bleakly. "We're going to _save_ fifteen percent of the Supercomputer."

The color drained out of Turbo's face. Davic stared, then sank to the floor.

"Perhaps you should tell Turbo about your other idea," Phong suggested.

"It's a long shot," Wayne demurred.

"We don't have any other kind, Wayne," Turbo told him.

"Unlocked, unlocked, and—unlocked." Wayne slapped Davic's shoulder. "Write protection's off."

The compiler chose that moment to beep its "finished" signal. 

"Perfect timing, Doc," Davic grinned. 

Turbo was already copying the patch file. He handed Bob and Davic their copies as he downloaded one onto his own icon. "Let's do it, Guardians."

Bob nodded. "Glitch!" 

Bob's keytool left the Web victim and clicked back onto its Guardian's arm just as Bob finished loading the patch file. "We're out of here!" He disappeared into a Portal.

"Want a ride, boss?" Davic scooped up his copy of the patch and snapped Caen into the air.

The Prime Guardian and Davic disappeared into Caen's Portal.

The next two copies of the patch went to Mouse and Ray, who hurried off to pass it on to the waiting Mainframe medics. Dot, AndrAIa, even Frisket and little Enzo took more copies into the streets of Mainframe, where symptoms were sporadic but rising. Phong downloaded his patch, then gave Wayne a curious look as the doctor tucked one more copy under his belt, and reached for a data pad.

"Perhaps you should download your patch before you go," Phong suggested.

"The patch isn't for me," Wayne told him. "It's for Matrix."

Davic and Turbo landed in the middle of a street, and ducked a spray of wet confetti arcing out of a third-floor window. Costumed sprites and binomes danced, sang, fought, or simply ran back and forth, laughing maniacally. Explosions from random teleportation punctuated the noise of several stereos warring for primacy.

Turbo tapped Davic's arm, and pointed to himself, then down the street. He gave Davic a shove in the opposite direction, and gave him a thumbs-up.

Davic nodded, and grabbed the nearest infectee. She shrieked, and whirled into Davic's arms. She bent back over his arm with a dancer's flourish, then straightened and ran the paintbrush in her right hand down Davic's face. 

Davic snorted, then spun the infected sprite around and wrapped one arm around her, pinning her arms while he pulled her icon off the neon purple wetsuit she was wearing. She squealed, and plunged in the Guardian's grip. "I'll call the pixels down on you! They're mine! All mine! Magical pixels…" she abruptly relaxed, and smiled up at Davic. "I'm so happy now. Are you happy?" Her green eyes glinted, and she yanked one arm free and wrapped it up and around Davic's neck. She pulled his head down close, and said, "You know, I could kiss you right now. Or I could kill you." 

"Either way, take a number," Davic grunted. He tapped his icon with the one pinned between his fingers.

Matrix's eyes popped open with a start as the crow's nest creaked. His gun, which had slipped out of his grip as he dozed, slapped itself into his hand. The creaking movement stilled. "What do you want?" Matrix yelled, his right eye glowing red.

"To give you what _you_ want," Wayne's voice answered. "I'm here to give you Megabyte."

Matrix stiffened, and he fired right through the floor of the crow's nest. "Stay away from me, Megabyte!" The round exploded against the wood, throwing splinters in every direction. Matrix, his aim steady despite his wild-eyed tension, scooted back as the magnetic shrapnel twisted and ate the solid wood. Beneath the gaping hole, Wayne swung and spun on the netlike remains of the starboard shrouds and ratlines. The ex-Guardian slammed into the mainmast, and swore.

"Crash your stubborn paranoid ASCII, put that cannon _down!_" he yelled.

Matrix growled, and fired again. The shot whistled past Wayne's ear, then plunged into the thick wood of the dock, turning one of the pilings to splinters. Matrix lay flat on his belly and dangled his arms into the empty space beneath the crow's nest. The muzzle of his gun tracked Wayne unerringly.

Wayne looked up, and his face darkened as a bright red targeting icon formed across the bridge of his nose. He let go of the ratlines with one hand.

Matrix fired.

Wayne's hand flashed in front of his face, and the bullet that had been aimed at near point-blank range glanced off Wayne's palm, then screamed toward the Data Sea. Wayne looked up at Matrix, his eyes glowing green. "I've had about enough of this." He reached up and grabbed Matrix's left wrist, then kicked free of the ruined shrouds. Matrix gasped at the sudden weight, and Wayne used the moment of distraction to grab the still-smoking gun and twist it out of the Guardian's free hand. He shoved the bucking weapon under his belt, and glared into Matrix's wide eyes. "Pull me up. We need to talk."

Matrix obeyed.


	41. Secondary Infection Chapter 41

"Where are you, Bob?" Dot asked.

"Just outside RamBus Terminal," Bob panted. He ducked as something flew past the vidwindow. "If I patch the drivers—" the Guardian caught a young boy, and tapped the child with his icon, "—they might be able to carry the patch into new sectors faster than I can."

"You always were smarter under pressure, Bob," Turbo said approvingly as he split-screened the call. "I've cleared the historic sector from the Nortbridge to the Principle Office. I'm gonna try and get in there."

"Good idea," Dot nodded. "Have either of you heard from Davic?"

Turbo paused, his eyes elsewhere. "Copland!" His keytool beeped, and threw a line out of the picture. There was a shriek, then an angry hissing. Turbo pulled on the line, reeling in his catch. "Davic hasn't checked in?"

"Punctuality was never his strong point," Bob said. 

"Caen would have reminded him," Turbo countered, yanking the green-eyed sprite on the end of Copland's line into view.

"We've tried to raise them, but there's no answer," Dot said. 

Turbo grunted, then rapped out an order as he transferred the patch file. "Bob, find Davic and get him out of whatever trouble he's in. I'll try to get the Principle Office back online. Dot, how are the keytools holding out?"

"I—I'm not sure, Turbo," Dot faltered. "Isa checked in, but no one here understands—"

"Play it back for me," Turbo commanded.

"Specky," Dot said.

"Yes, Ma'am!" The binome queued the file.

Squeals and a tattoo of clicks came over the Mainframe Command Central speakers. Turbo listened, his face grim. Bob's brown eyes went wide. Copland buzzed, and Glitch rattled.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Dot looked from one Guardian to another.

"Even keytools have their limits," Turbo said heavily. "Get moving, Bob."

"Yes, Sir," Bob answered without a trace of his usual humor.

Dot closed the vidwindow with a sigh. 

"Report from System Gemini," one of Dot's staff said into the ensuing hush. "They've got the local medics patched. The system is stable now. Our team wants to know if they should pull out."

Dot nodded. "What's the nearest infected system?"

The binome checked a few monitors. "The teams in the Aurora Cluster have requested backup—Tuscany Node's still blocked—"

"Aurora's closer to Tuscany than Gemini," Dot said. "Get the Gemini team to Aurora, then pull a team out of Aurora, and tell them to rest up on the way to Tuscany. We've still got a long way to go."

Bob ran, dodging around cackling pedestrians and no small number of fistfights. He rushed down an alley and scrambled up a chain-link fence an instant before a pack of green-eyed dogs hit it, snarling and tearing at the mesh. The fence rattled and bucked under the assault. Bob jumped clear, and landed on the fire escape of the building beyond.

A scruffy figure wearing an enormous hat skidded into the alley on an overtaxed child's scooter. "There you are, you varmint! Hold still while I blast ya!" 

"Glitch! Get us out of here!" Bob yelled as a barrage of shotgun shells tore into the fence, the building, and the ground.

Glitch beeped, and yanked its guardian into a Portal.

Bob landed on his feet an instant later, to the sound of a booming air horn. Bob yelped, and dove for the dubious safety of a row of phone booths beside the street. He slammed the door shut as the truck roared by, its horn going full blast. It tore through three red lights before careening into a park and out of sight.

"My mother always told me not to play in traffic," Bob commented. "Did you intend to land in the middle of a street, Glitch?"

Glitch made a rude noise, then clacked.

Bob sobered. "Is it that high everywhere?"

A beep.

Bob nodded. "All right. No more Portals until we can get the Principle Office back online." He leaned against the back of the booth. "Can you track Davic's protocol or Caen?"

Glitch chattered.

"Do the best you can, old friend. They should be somewhere in this sector."

The scan took several long nanos, punctuated by whistles of frustration from Glitch as signals broke up in the oscillating interference of an unstable system.

Bob used the time to slip out of the phone booth, and grab a few infectees. One burst out of a phone booth further down the row from Bob's, wearing a red cape and yelling, "Up, up, and away!" Bob wrapped the cape around the sprite's arms and patched him, then put him back in the phone booth to get him out of the way. 

Bob's efforts were interrupted by the noisy arrival of Caen. Davic's keytool lashed itself around Bob's waist and yanked him into a Portal while Glitch was still shrilling its surprise.

The caped sprite in the open phone booth blinked as the Portal closed, then whistled. "Now _that_ was a good exit."

Turbo charged into the central command room at the heart of the Supercomputer with a knot of patched staffers at his heels. He skidded to a halt and stared for an instant. "Didn't know you had so many relatives, Copland." Alarms shrilled and flashed on and off. There were keytools everywhere. Some sat on consoles, squeaking, buzzing, and clattering as they tried to manipulate controls made for sprites. Others zipped across the room on some errand or another. Most, however, were recognizable only as blocks of color in a slowly-rotating mass in the center of the room. Individuals broke off from the living sculpture and spun around the room, chattering, only to return and reconnect to the mass in another place.

Copland let out a stream of clicks and beeps, rising off its Guardian's gauntlet and diving right into the central structure of the keytool-mass.

"Copland!" Turbo started, then he turned to the sprites behind him. "They're losing control of the core; somebody's cracked the containment."

The staffers scurried.

"Confirmed! We've got uncontrolled voltage leaking into the system mains!"…"Core temperature at 137% of normal!"…"The cooling vents are blocked!" 

Copland returned to its Guardian, and squealed at Turbo over the din of voices, keytool-chatter, and shrilling alarms.

Turbo's stagger went unnoticed, but his shocked question carried. "It _what?_"

Caen burst back into existence in what had been a street market. Now, it was a vandalized mess. Bob landed facedown in a cart full of somewhat overripe fruit. The cart, which had survived several minutes of hard use, collapsed under the Guardian's weight, sending Bob tumbling.

Caen chattered, trying to drag Bob to his feet.

"All right, all right, I'm up," Bob panted, wiping tomato juice out of his eyes. "Where's Davic, Caen?"

The keytool keened.

"What's happened, Caen? Is Davic hurt?"

"I'm not the one who's hurting," a growl answered from a shadowed doorway. "Don't think I'm gonna hurt after I'm through with you, either."

Bob turned as Caen shrieked.

Davic's eyes flashed bright green above a predatory grin as he shrugged off the shadows.


	42. Secondary Infection Chapter 42

"You're sure?" Dot asked.

"Positive," Wayne answered. "Megabyte's not in the system. Matrix hasn't picked up any traces of his processing signature."

"Enzo?" Dot looked past Wayne's shoulder to her brother's scarred face.

"He's not here, Dot," Matrix said distantly. "He was in the Web…"

"Sir! Incoming message from Turbo," Specky interrupted.

"On-screen," Dot ordered. 

"Dot? Patch me through to Wayne. We've got trouble."

Dot took one look at Turbo's tense face and nodded. "I've got him on a separate channel. Let me tie him in." She touched a few keys and nodded at Specky.

"Turbo?" Wayne lifted an eyebrow at the Prime Guardian.

"The patch isn't holding, Wayne," Turbo said. "The infection is mutating around it."

A soft gasp ran around the Command room. 

Wayne's eyebrows lowered. "Megabyte," he growled.

"You think he had something to do with this?"

"I'm sure of it," Wayne answered. "I designed the patch to counter any further mutations of Hexadecimal's code. Only outside intervention from a compatible virus could beat those blocks. Which means…" He glanced at Matrix. 

The renegade's eyes narrowed slightly, and he nodded. 

Wayne matched the nod, then turned back to Turbo. "We'll be there as soon as we can."

"Wait," Dot protested. "Enzo—"

"I'll find him, Dot," Matrix said fiercely. "I'll find him and _finish_ him."

"Not until I'm through with him," Wayne told the glowering cadet.

"No way," Turbo said. "This whole system is under crash-quarantine. No one comes in or goes out until we get the core stable."

"On whose orders?" Wayne demanded.

"_Mine_," Turbo snapped.

"You're overstepping your authority, then," Wayne told him coldly. "_I_ am the Head Medical Protocol of the Guardian Collective, and my professional judgement overrides your command protocol. I'm coming to take a look at this situation firsthand, and if I have to punch through quarantine blocks to get in, I'll not only relieve you of duty, I'll lock you down and run physiological diagnostics on you until you come to your senses!" 

"You're not taking my brother into that!" Dot told Wayne.

"Actually, I am," Wayne countered. He grabbed Matrix's wrist. "Argue with me later." He closed his eyes, then popped them open again. His green eyes were absolutely sober as he said, "Trust me." He and Matrix disappeared in a flash of light.

"No!" Dot's face contorted, then she fainted.

"Davic!" Bob yelled, ducking a swing aimed for his head. "Davic, don't do this!"  
"Do what? I'm just getting warmed up, shorty." Davic dropped and swung a leg at Bob's ankles.  
Caen shrieked, zipping back and forth between the two Guardians without touching either.   
Bob jumped the sweep, but couldn't shift in midair to escape the fist following the foot. "Oof!" He scrambled back a few steps, holding his side. "Davic, I don't want to hurt you…" he said warningly.  
"Can't say the same myself," Davic shrugged. He grinned, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. He reappeared behind Bob. His grab for Bob's throat missed by a hair.  
"Glitch! Containment field!" Bob scrambled away from Davic, then jumped onto a café table.  
The threads of the containment field wrapped around Davic, and he laughed. "You've gotta be kidding." His eyes burned green and Davic's body glowed as he flexed his shoulders. The strands tightened, then snapped all at once. "I was breaking out of tougher stuff than that when I was 01."  
"Caen! Do something!" Bob appealed.  
Davic's keytool chattered nervously, and Glitch answered it in strident tones.  
"You know, I'm tired of all this talking," Davic said, advancing on Bob. "Let's see what you've got, city sprite."  
"All right," Bob said grimly. He leaped off the table, and hit Davic hard in the middle before both of them went down. 

Caen squealed, and managed to get between Davic's head and the street just in time to save its Guardian's life. It could not, however, prevent Bob from grabbing Davic's shoulder at the base of his neck and pinching hard. 

Davic grunted, thrashed, then abruptly passed out.  
"Sorry, Davic," Bob told his unconscious friend.   
Glitch rattled on Bob's arm, and squealed imperiously.  
Caen let out a low buzz, then slowly extended, wrapping thick coils of itself around Davic.  
Glitch whistled.  
Bob winced. The Guardian rose, and suddenly swayed and nearly fell. He crouched back down beside Davic, holding his head. "I—Glitch…"  
Glitch's answering beep was sharp. Its screen filled with data as it scanned its Guardian. The keytool's clicking accelerated to a near continuous blur of sound, and ended in a wailing squeal.   
Bob grimaced, and sat down hard, resting his forehead on his knees. "Caen…how long…?"  
Caen let out a whirring moan.  
Bob closed his eyes and took several breaths. "Why didn't you call me?"  
Both Caen and Glitch answered, in staccato clicks.  
"That sounds like Davic. Too stubborn—" Bob broke off as bright green light pulsed across his body. His eyes glowed green for an instant, then faded back to brown. Bob took several long, slow breaths, then slowly sat up straight. "Glitch, contact Turbo."  
The keytool clicked, then rattled something as it worked.  
Caen beeped meekly.  
"Bob?" Turbo asked from Glitch's tiny screen. "Are you all right?"  
"I found Davic," Bob reported, struggling for breath. "Prime, I don't know how it happened, but he's infected." He paused as his eyes flickered from brown to green and back, then doggedly went on. "I've got the infection. Glitch just picked up signs of a failed energy shunt in my code. My protocol is slowing it down, but…" Bob shrugged. "You know."  
"Yeah." Turbo answered, his voice rougher than usual. "The patch file's been corrupted. Wayne thinks Megabyte had something to do with it."  
"And here…I thought things couldn't get worse," Bob said in an attempt at humor. "So, has Doctor MacHewlett come up with another miracle yet?"  
"I think we're out of miracles," Turbo answered. "Wayne's infection has returned. He's coming here, and he's bringing Matrix here to look for Megabyte," Turbo said.  
"OK, that's worse," Bob concluded.  
"Look, Bob," Turbo glanced away for a moment, then turned back and met Bob's eyes. "Patching the folks out there isn't going to help much, now. I'm not sure anything's going to help. You may as well bring Davic in and help us try to stabilize the core, for as long—" He stopped. "I don't think we can win this one, Bob."  
"We have to try," Bob said. He dragged himself to his feet and managed to meet Turbo's gaze. "We're Guardians."  
  
Turbo sagged as the vidwindow closed. He shuddered and gripped the edges of a console for balance as his icon pulsed and his eyes changed color. "Yes," he rasped as his regained control. He watched the Principle Office schematics, ignoring the racket of the staff and keytools around him. "We're Guardians." 


	43. Secondary Infection Chapter 43

High above the Academy Sector of the Supercomputer, there was a series of pops, then a bang and a puff of smoke. When the smoke cleared, Wayne MacHewlett stood on empty air, hanging onto Enzo Matrix, whose feet dangled loosely.  
"What did you just _do_?" Matrix yelled, his voice cracking as he glanced down.  
"I got us into the Supercomputer," Wayne answered. "November double-Charlie 1701. Turbo must be slipping. That's Old Gertie's call sign." He gave Matrix a glance. "Activate your zipboard before your shoulder dislocates." He continued to support Matrix as though the big sprite weighed no more than an infant, but his green eyes focused on the Principle Office, and he started drifting slowly that direction.  
Matrix twisted and squirmed, finally managing to pry his zipboard off his belt and activate it one-handed. He pulled his feet up and set them on the pads, finding his balance.  
Wayne let go of Matrix's arm. "Good. Come on. I need your eyes."  
Matrix kicked the zipboard around, and glided up beside Wayne, his expression guarded. "Who are you?" he asked finally. "_What_ are you?"  
"I'm not a virus, if that's what you're asking," Wayne said mildly.   
"Uh-huh." Matrix's fingers drifted toward his holstered gun. "Your eyes are green, you know."  
"I'm not surprised," Wayne answered. "That particular meme is all over Hexadecimal's code." He changed the subject. "Keep scanning for Megabyte. He knows the system is unstable, so he'll be looking for a way out."  
"How do I know this 'upgrade' you gave me isn't another infection? For all I know, you're Megabyte, and you've just—"  
Wayne snorted. "_Think, cadet._ Do you honestly believe Megabyte would let you live long enough to even ask that question?"  
Matrix opened his mouth, then halted abruptly. "There," he growled. "I've got him." His eyes were focused on a patch of pavement running through the wide green lawns around the Principle Office. Matrix let his zipboard drift lower. "He's in the sewer where he belongs."  
"No," Wayne said. "Not the sewer. The maintenance tunnels." His green eyes shifted as he thought. "User beyond the Web—that's what he's doing. He's _using_ the infection." He dropped to the ground. "We need a hole, Matrix. A nice, big hole. Don't blow up Megabyte just yet."  
Matrix, still on his zipboard, focused back on the pavement. "What is it you want from Megabyte, anyway?" He fired almost casually, and a hole opened up with a shower of gravel and a deafening boom.  
Wayne smiled tightly. "Don't worry, there'll be plenty of him left for you."  
  
Turbo reached up to shove his safety mask back, and banged his elbow against the thin metal of the cooling duct. He swore, though without much feeling or so much as a rub of his newest bruise. He ground his teeth and mopped the sweat off his face before he resumed cutting. Someone had carefully removed all the nuts anchoring the cooling fans in place, then splatter-painted the moving fans as they worked loose from their hubs before falling into the ductwork. The nuts had been discovered decorating a candy-striped wedding cake in the staff lounge.   
Copland beeped, and Bob's voice bounced around in the duct. "Turbo? How does it look up there?"   
"Like your first flying lesson," Turbo grunted. The cutting torch wavered, and Turbo locked his elbows and ground his teeth as green light lit up the duct. A soft sound escaped Turbo before the paroxysm passed. Copland crooned its distress as the green light faded and Turbo doggedly went on with his work.  
"Any progress on the secondaries?" the Prime Guardian asked.  
"The keytools got one of them cleared before we had to lock up the staff," Bob said. "The core temperature has dropped to 123% of normal." Bob was quiet for a moment. "It's not enough, is it?"  
"Probably not." Turbo paused to let a piece of metal fall. It rattled down into the mess below, where it lodged against another embedded chunk. "How are you?"  
"I've been worse," Bob said. The flat, washed-out monotone of his voice gave the lie to the statement. "How about you?"  
"Headache," Turbo grunted. "Overheating, I think. I'm almost finished."  
"I think we all are," Bob murmured.   
Turbo didn't answer that. "Are the keytools gone?"  
"Most of them." There was a short, choking sound, then Bob went on breathlessly. "Glitch refused, and Caen started swearing as soon as Glitch contacted it. They're not going, Turbo."  
"That's what I was afraid of." Turbo addressed his keytool while he scooted, flat on his back, into a crevice, the cutting torch angled ahead of him. "Copland, you can't—"  
Copland's answer was a short, rude clack, followed by a string of beeps.  
"That's pretty much what Glitch said," Bob commented.  
"Ah!" Turbo curled nearly double as the infection sought another route into his source code. "Get out of here, Copland. You, too, Glitch. Get Caen and get out of here. You can't help us now," he ground between clenched teeth. "Go. 'T's an order. Find someone to…defend the Net."  
Copland howled, and Glitch joined it through the still-open com channel.  
"For the good of the Net," Turbo whispered.  
Copland's shriek was almost lost in the echoes of its departure.   
  
Matrix dropped through the hole he'd made in the pavement, and landed with a solid thump inside the maintenance tunnel. He glanced behind him, but then focused all of his attention forward. "You coming?" he called up to Wayne.  
Wayne slid down the edge of the concrete, letting his feet brush the floor before letting go of the pavement above. "My knees aren't as young as yours, kid. Lead on."  
"Uh-uh. You may not be Megabyte, but I want you where I can see you." Matrix gestured with his gun.  
Wayne looked at Matrix, then lifted his eyebrows and sighed. He stepped in front of Matrix, and the two of them slipped down the tunnel, headed for the Principle Office and Megabyte.  
"He's moving," Matrix said tightly.  
"Toward us or away?"  
"Toward."  
"Good. I don't feel like chasing him."  
"Greetings, fools!" Megabyte's deep voice boomed in the tunnel. "I assume you are here hoping to pull off some miraculous rescue of this magnificent, doomed system. This time, however, your luck has run out. The core will soon fail, and the power surge will wipe out even the memory of the Supercomputer and its infernal Guardians."  
"Why, Megabyte?" Wayne bellowed back. "Why destroy what you spent so long trying to conquer?"  
Megabyte chuckled, a cold, horrible sound in the depths of the tunnels. "My dear doctor, do you really wish to go through that hackneyed rigmarole? Very well, since there is nothing you can do to stop me now, I will indulge your sense of melodrama."  
"Ruling the Supercomputer was only the first step," Megabyte said, as Wayne and Matrix crept closer to his voice. "My true aims have always been higher. The core power of Mainframe would give me the strength to conquer the Supercomputer, and the power in the core of the Supercomputer would have been enough to upgrade me all the way to a Web virus."  
"So that's how the infection mutated," Wayne said.   
"Yes, yes," Megabyte said patronizingly. "It's all finally coming together for you now, isn't it? After my station failed to delete you and your annoying friends, I concealed myself among the Web Riders, and opened that stray packet. Attempting to save that helpless little Game sprite distracted you long enough for me to make my way here."  
"You mutated the infection," Wayne said.   
Matrix's hand dropped onto Wayne's shoulder. The doctor turned, and exchanged a look with the younger sprite. Matrix put his back to the right wall, then glanced meaningfully at the tangle of pipes running just above their heads. Wayne nodded.  
Megabyte laughed. "And you were the genius who was to stop me. I _perfected_ the infection, doctor. Hexadecimal was never more than fragments of code that should rightfully have been mine. I rebuilt the power of the infection, but only so that I could reclaim the power of Gigabyte!"  
Matrix's right eye buzzed, and a targeting icon formed on what appeared to be a nondescript pipe connecting two larger ones. "Come on out, Megabyte. You're not fooling anyone."  
"Nor are you, boy," Megabyte's voice purred. The pipe abruptly shifted, and Megabyte's arms and legs folded out from impossible angles. The virus loomed in the tunnel, nearly filling it. Parts of him appeared partially-upgraded. Wires and gears stuck out from unarmored joints and unfinished sensors. "A garrulous doctor and an apprentice Guardian. How pathetic."  
"Almost as pathetic as half-upgraded virus," Wayne answered.  
Megabyte smiled, a horrible sight, since his face consisted of only glittering eyeballs, the broken frame of a nose, and a predatory snout stretched over row upon row of teeth. "Then let us dispense with the talking, my dear doctor." He opened his right hand, and infection lines shot toward Wayne.  
"No!" Matrix jumped forward, firing once. The shot screamed right into Megabyte's torso, where it exploded. Megabyte gasped, but grabbed Matrix around the waist with his left arm, which was now a serrated claw from the elbow down.   
Wayne's head snapped up, and he let the infection lines dig into his palm. Then he closed his fist around them and pulled them close. "Wrong move, virus," he hissed, his green eyes hard. "You just gave me exactly what I need." His hand began to glow with white-hot light.  
"What? You can't—Stop! Or the boy dies." Megabyte's pincers closed around Matrix, and the cadet gasped.  
"Do you think I care?" Wayne wrapped the lines tighter, pulling himself into Megabyte's chest. "We Guardians have a saying, you know, "Sometimes the good of the many must take precedence over the good of the one." He reached into Megabyte's open torso, and his skin flushed, then fluoresced, throwing the shadows of Megabyte's innards across the wall and the pipes behind him.  
"What…are you doing?" Megabyte panted as the light brightened.  
"You're not the only one who borrowed a few algorithms from Hexadecimal," Wayne answered. His bright green eyes were almost sad. "Your sister carried a useful bag of tricks. But I need a few of yours to set the system right."  
"No," Megabyte spat. But he slowly fell to his knees, letting Matrix slide out of his pincers. "You'll only delete yourself."  
"Maybe," Wayne shrugged. "See you on the other side, virus." He stepped over Megabyte's huddled body. "You can finish him off now, if you like, Matrix. I'm done with him."  
"What did you do to him?" Matrix asked, panting. His eyes were a little wild.  
"I cut and pasted his infection and power-modulation codes into my operating code," Wayne answered. "He won't last long without them. Shooting him might be a mercy." His tone was clinically matter-of-fact.  
Megabyte lunged from the floor, and Matrix put him back down with a kick. "Let him suffer the way he's made me and Mainframe suffer."  
"I thought you might see it that way," Wayne said. "I'd suggest you get back to the surface. This tunnel is going to get pretty hot soon."  
"What about you?" Matrix asked.  
"I know what I'm doing. Go."  
Matrix gave Megabyte another kick before turning back up the tunnel.  
"You're…a doctor. You cannot destroy life," Megabyte hissed at Wayne's back.  
Wayne's voice echoed back, "I was a Guardian long before I was a doctor. To mend and defend, virus." His footsteps faded into the depths.


	44. Secondary Infectino Chapter 44

Dot opened her eyes and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling for a long moment.   
Something beeped.  
"Ah! You are awake again. Excellent." Phong's face swung into view above her. "Just lie still, my child."  
"Phong?" Dot reached up and rubbed her forehead, then dropped her hand and sat up a little too quickly. "Phong!" She blinked, and her eyes refocused. "Phong, the Supercomputer. Enzo…Bob!"  
"Now, now, Dot," the old Command.com soothed. "You must eat something." He offered her a steaming bowl of thick soup. "Your power levels were nearly critical when your staff brought you here."  
"Not now, Phong. I have to save—"  
Phong placed the bowl on a beeping console and lowered his head. "I am afraid that is not possible, my child," he said gravely. "The infection has taken the entire Supercomputer. Our long-range scans show that the Core there will soon go offline."  
"Then we'll have to be fast. Where's Mouse?" Dot swung her legs over the edge of the bed.  
Phong did not get a chance to answer. As Dot's feet touched the floor, a swarm of Portals opened, each barely large enough to permit a keytool through. The small room filled with squeals and chatter as keytools of every description suddenly filled the air.   
"What in the Net…_Glitch!_" Dot pointed, her eyes wide in shock.  
Glitch zipped out of the crowd of its comrades and buzzed around Dot's head, squealing and clicking at high speed and higher volume.  
"And that, if I am not mistaken, is the Prime Guardian's keytool," Phong said, nodding toward a red blur. He watched the keytools mob the almost-forgotten Web victim across the room. "There is only one explanation for their presence here, my child," he said sadly.  
"No," Dot shook her head. "A keytool never leaves its Guardian. Not while there's still some hope…" She stopped. "Bob—no. Oh no no no no no…" Her grief was interrupted by sudden silence, and she raised her head.   
The keytools had formed into a neat, if ungainly, knot. They dropped lightly onto the unresponsive Web victim. Bright lines shot out of the keytool mass, and secured themselves into four data ports and all the power outlets in the room.   
The lights flickered and died, and the usual thrum of the system died away to barely a whisper.  
Dot found Phong's thin arm in the darkness, and clutched it.   
  
Another red light flashed to life in the now-silent Supercomputer Command Room. "W—wa—warning," the system voice stuttered. "Virus-virus detected in P-Prin-rin-rin-ssscipal Office—ss."  
Bob opened his eyes and slowly lifted himself off the console he had dropped onto out of sheer exhaustion. "Impossible…" he breathed. "Nothing could survive the surges…" His eyes changed color, and a lunatic grin spread across his face. "I bet I could do that." He pushed away from the console with renewed energy. "The entire power of the Core, surging through me! I know what that would feel like!"  
Hoarse, maniacal laughter boomed down the ductwork from above.   
"What lovely music!" Bob danced around the Command Room, singing off-key and twirling a nonexistent partner with expert flourishes.  
  
"Phong?" Dot's voice said into the dark. "Phong, what are they doing?"  
"I do not know, my child," the whispery voice answered. "Perhaps—"  
A beam of light erupted from across the room, and something writhed in the shadows, screaming. The cries were soon drowned out by a vibrato purr that shook Mainframe to its foundations. Something rattled, and a crash of broken crockery signaled the loss of Phong's bowl of soup.  
The purr ended in a sudden, sharp chord. The lights came back on and the keytools fell out of their knot at the same instant. A long, ululating cry went on, though. It died away as its maker stretched.  
Phong blinked rapidly and adjusted his glasses. "Ah—hello?"  
The sprite perched on the bed opposite turned and smiled at him. "Hello, revered elder. What system is this?"  
"Mainframe," Dot answered, smoothing her hair. "Who are you?"  
A keytool zipped out of the remains of the knot and slammed itself onto the sprite's left arm with enough force to bruise. It chattered and clicked, its tiny round face spinning.  
"I believe that answers part of your question," the Guardian said, her rich tones amused. "Let me answer the rest. I am Aria, and this is my keytool, Pavane. We are in your debt for my restoration," she curtseyed, "but first I must ask a question of my own. Where is my Prime?"  
Dot and Phong exchanged a look, at a loss.  
  
"W—wa--arning. C-c-core-rr fragment—t-t--ting." The system voice rang in the pulses of energy.   
Wayne's green eyes and darkened icon were all that distinguished him from the mindless power swirling around him. "Access System Restore file." The words rose on a spinning vortex of tightly-controlled power.   
"Ak-ak-access d-denied," the system said, while chunks of falling masonry bounced off Wayne's shoulders.   
Wayne sighed, and pressed his hands to the wall behind him. His face flickered, and darkened to something closer to its normal color for a moment, as streaks of green light twisted their way around the walls.   
  
In the Control Room, consoles sparked and displays went dark in sprays of green sparks, lighting up Bob's slow, mad dance. Turbo slid out of the ductwork in a cascade of broken and burned metal. A deep gash gaped across his forehead, but the Prime Guardian seemed oblivious to his injury. He grabbed Bob by the waist as the other Guardian twirled by, and threw him into the nearest wall. Bob raised his head with an animal growl, and unleashed a fireball from between his hands.   
  
"Ak—akakakak—kacess…"  
"Granted," Wayne finished as the system voice stuttered into silence. A vidwindow opened, its colors washed-out by the brightness around it. Wayne ran one brightly-pulsing finger across the screen, and a bright red highlight followed his touch. He reached _into_ the text, and grabbed several lines of code, pulling them out of the screen as a thin wire of zeroes and ones. He took off his icon. "PID—executive unlock. Open for upgrade." The top half of the icon spun, and lifted off the bottom half. Wayne flickered in and out of existence, his body burning away in bright flakes of overloaded code. His eyes were intent as he coiled the wire of code neatly into the bottom half of his PID. "Close icon and reinitialize," he ordered.  
The icon whirred as its halves closed. Wayne put it back in its place on his chest, then closed his eyes and tapped it.   
After that there was only white-hot silence.  
  
_Sound. Sounds. Racket. It made his head hurt. It hurt to realize that he still had a head at all. And fingers. They hurt, every one of them. He slipped back toward the silence he had found in those last nanos, but just on the edge of the precipice, a gust of hot, loud wind pushed him up again. Racket. It was so loud.  
Light—yellow, painful light dawned. He turned away from it, but his eyes burned in their sockets, making him regretfully remember that he had a head again._  
"Wayne?"   
_No. Not Wayne. Just warm silence and—_  
"Wayne?"   
_The voice was familiar. A memory stirred._  
"Crash you, T'bo," Wayne mumbled.  
"Any day of the week, old friend. Two falls out of three?"  
"Nah. Y'cheat." Wayne opened his eyes to slits, then shut them again with a moan. "Wha happened?"  
"You just saved the Supercomputer, Wayne. Nearly sacrificed yourself doing it, too. There's a lot of sprites who want to yell at you for that."  
"Wha?"  
Turbo put his hand on Wayne's shoulder, then quickly removed it at Wayne's eyes flew open with an inadvertent gasp. "Sorry, old friend," he said hastily. "Let me fill in the gaps. You and Matrix busted in here, tore open a maintenance tunnel, tracked down Megabyte, and turned him into a little bit less than a Null. Then you walked right into the Core and let loose an upgrade with enough power behind it to blow half the system clear across the known Net. When the smoke cleared, the core was down to five percent of capacity and there wasn't a fragment of Hexadecimal left anywhere in the system."   
"Smart meme. Not hard," Wayne murmured, his eyelids drifting shut. "Just needed a power-control bug. Not hard."  
"Maybe not for you," Turbo said. "You never patched yourself, did you?"  
"Wouldn've worked," Wayne answered, his eyes still closed. "Different."  
"Different how?"  
Wayne sighed. "Different patch. Got Doctor Bingen to leave some of the infection intact."  
"In the name of the Programmer, _why?_"  
"Thought I might need it." Wayne opened his eyes again. "And I did."  
"So that's why your scans keep coming up viral," Turbo said. "You pasted together bits of Hexadecimal and Megabyte in your own code."  
Wayne nodded wearily. "Fight fire with fire." He focused his eyes on Turbo. "What am I, class three?"  
"Four," Turbo corrected glumly.  
"So why am I still here?" Wayne asked. "Guardian policy on viruses—"  
"Doesn't apply to you," Turbo snapped. "You think I'd authorize the deletion of my oldest friend? Of the hero who saved the Supercomputer?"  
"If you had to," Wayne answered levelly. "What am I, Turbo?"  
Turbo sank back into his chair. "You're the Head Medical Protocol at the Guardian Academy, Wayne."  
Wayne nodded slowly. "And if I happen to startle some cadets or decide to teleport myself home some night--?"  
"You scare 'em, you explain to 'em," Turbo answered. "They'll be expecting miracles out of you, anyway." Copland beeped, and Turbo glanced at it. "I've got to go. Lil threatened me with a full checkup and three days of quarantined observation if I 'pestered' you too long." 

Copland beeped again, and produced an elongated wolf whistle. 

Turbo blushed.   
Wayne's eyebrows rose questioningly.  
"You remember that Web victim we found?"  
Wayne nodded.  
"The keytools cured her. It—it was Aria, Wayne. If I hadn't ordered the keytools to leave here, she…" He stopped, and was silent for a long moment, then he shook his head, grinning. "She Portaled in here as soon as Mainframe's scans showed that there was still something here to Portal to."  
"It's about time," Wayne murmured.  
Turbo's goofy grin vanished. "How's that?"  
"She's not going to let you post her at the other end of the Web again, you know."  
Turbo winced. "So she's told me. But—"  
"Just let her marry you already, Turbo. She's been more than patient with you." Wayne grinned at his old friend. "Maybe keeping her happy will keep you out of my hair."  
"You don't have any hair, old friend."  
"And who do you think's responsible for that?" Wayne settled back against the pillows and yawned. "Go plan your wedding, Turbo. Kiss her for me."  
"I'll do that," Turbo said, his lips twitching. "Sleep well, Wayne."  
"Mm-hm." Wayne closed his eyes. "Hey Turbo?"  
Turbo turned back from the door. "Yeah?"  
"D'you think you could pull rank and get Roscoe in to see me?"  
Turbo chuckled. "I'll see what I can do."  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
The alarm went off and Wayne rolled out of bed, tangling the sheets around Roscoe, who pulled the linens off the bed and dragged them into the living room as he followed his master into the kitchen. Wayne fixed an omelette for himself, and a bowl of kibble for Roscoe. The sprite sat down by his kitchen window and took a bite of his omelette. "Not bad," he commented. "I think I like it better with green onions and shredded cheddar, though."  
Roscoe whuffed into his bowl, and his tail wagged.  
Wayne dawdled over breakfast, looking out the window at the cleanup and reconstruction effort under way on the streets that had been a vandalized ruin a few decacycles ago. The storefronts had been cleaned and repainted, the junked cars had been removed from the streets and most of the ruined bushes and trees had been replanted. Wayne sighed contentedly, put his plate down for Roscoe to lick, and padded into his bathroom. "Three more cycles," he told his reflection. "Just three more cycles, and then, back to work." He grinned. "Wonder if Argus is up for a round or two."   
His green eyes laughed back at him.


End file.
